Potential
by Texan
Summary: What happens when SG1, with resident Immortals, meet up with the Battlestar Galactica? A war that could span the universe
1. Chapter 1

Potential

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"_Stargate_", "_Stargate SG-1_", and "_Stargate: Atlantis_" its characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such from the movie, is the property of MGM. "_Star Trek_", "_Star Trek: The Next Generation_", and "_Star Trek: Voyager_" and "_Star Trek: Enterprise_" and all related Star Trek related material, it's characters and certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television shows and movies, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by Paramount Studios. "_Highlander_", it's characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television show, past present of near future, may be or are registered trademarks of, Highlander, characters, names, and all related indicia are trademarks of Rysher Productions. "_Babylon Five_", it's characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television show, past present of near future, may be or are registered trademarks of, Babylon 5, characters, names, and all related indicia are trademarks of Time Warner Entertainment Co., LP. "_Starship Troopers_", its characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such from the movie, is the property of Sony Pictures. The book of the same name is the property of Robert Silverberg. "_Space: Above and Beyond_", its characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such, is the property of Hard Eight Productions. "_Charmed_ ", its characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such, is the property of the WB Network. "_Buffy: The Vampire Slayer_", its characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such, is the property of the Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. "_JAG_ ", its characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such, is the property of Belisarius Productions. "_The X-Files_", its characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such from the movie, is the property of the Fox Network and Chris Carter. "_Law & Order: SVU_" is the property of Wolf Films, and NBC Television. "_CSI: Crime Scene Investigation_" is the property of Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS Television. "_Airwolf_" is the property of Belisarius Productions. The 'Jack Ryan' Novels and the characters, certain technological devices and/or references to such from these books, are the property of Tom Clancy, author extraordinaire. None of the Studios are responsible for the content of this story. The characters of Riley Hale and Terry Carmichael belong to the movie "_Broken Arrow_", from 20th Century Fox. Other names and additional characters are the creation of the author who is solely responsible for them as such.

Dedication: To Ecolea, for without her work, none of the spin-off ideas herein would have made sense. For Russ, Rafi, and Kike…the best HACU roomies a guy could have.

And for everyone who's written and encouraged me to finish this monstrous piece of fan-fic…my eternal thanks. Tex.

Special Thanks to Jarrod. You know who you are. You're one Hell of a Beta!

Originally Posted in 2003. Revised edition completedApril 2006.


	2. A Ranger in New York City

A word of a warning for my readers: There are some dark subjects touched upon in this story. For this reason, I'm giving it an R rating. I could probably get away with a PG-13 rating, but I'd rather not take that chance. As I said, the subject matter is rather dark, but then again, the idea of serial killers is a dark thing. So is torture. In no way whatsoever do I advocate these subjects. This is a story only!

Having been warned, this is your last chance to turn back. Otherwise, here is a story set in the Potential Universe. It's not necessary to have read any of the stories set in Potential, but it might help where the mentions of SG-1 come in. Chronologically, it takes place before Potential, and just after Ecolea's 'The Ninth Chevron'

_**A Ranger in New York City**_

Back-story to the **_Potentials_** series by Texan - Prequel to **_In the Eyes of the Ranger_**

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New York City in the wintertime is not a pleasant experience. The driving wind could drive an exposed body into frostbite fairly quickly. But the cold temperatures mattered not to one particular man, who hunted in any weather in any terrain. He was here now, in the cold. He had left the desert of North Africa behind after the kills there. His chosen prey was an endangered species. An extremely endangered species. But it made for excellent sport. More so since his prey rarely knew that it was prey. Even more so since his prey rarely knew it was an endangered species. But rare or not, endangered or not, it did not stop this man.

He had been born in 1920. His younger life was mostly unremarkable save for the fact that he had been found on the doorstep of a poor and destitute family that had barely scraped by in post World War I Germany. By the time he was twelve, he was living on the streets in Berlin, panhandling to earn enough money to eat. At nineteen, he joined the German army. He served in a tank battalion that led the charge into Poland on September 1st.

By 1942, he had risen in rank to that of Captain and had been transferred into the German SS. It was there that he met the man that would be his mentor for the next forty-odd years; Victor Krueger, otherwise known as the Kurgan. Krueger fed on the hate in the young man, and in return, he gave him the training he knew he would need to survive in this particular arena. Krueger was a higher ranking officer and the long standing policy had been for the higher ranks to mentor the most promising ones in the lesser ranks.

As interrogator specialists with the SS, they were assigned to a Jewish Concentration Camp, whose name was eventually lost to time. It was there that the Kurgan began experimenting with mind-altering drugs. He saw the Jews as even less that the Germans saw them. To him, all mortals were destined to be his slaves, to do with as he pleased.

The Kurgan was an Immortal.

Born sometime about a thousand years before the birth of Christ, along the shores of what is now the Caspian Sea, the Kurgan got his name from the tribe he was found by. They were a people that reveled in torture and cruelty. It is said that the Kurgans would throw children into pits with wild dogs so that the two might fight for food. This was considered a sport among their kind. The boy who would become the Kurgan became an Immortal when his father smashed his head in with a large rock for raping the tribal chief's wife and daughters. When the newly born Immortal awoke from his first death, he killed everyone in the village, adopting the name of his people as his own. His reputation spread far and wide and his skills as a mercenary were sought after by petty Kings and cruel Emperors throughout the world.

Her name was Gabrielle. An average looking young woman of perhaps twenty-five or so years. She was the type of woman that no one would look at twice. She had been an apprentice acolyte of the _Kirche des Sammelns_, or the Church of the Gathering. Her Lord and Master, Victor Folter, did not know that she had escaped until several hours after she had left the confines of his compound.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I'm calling from the Beaux des Lilles restaurant. A young woman just came in here. She looks like someone beat the living hell outta her. She's wearing a trench coat and nothing else. Can you send someone, please?"

"Yes sir. An officer is on the way sir."

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"Are you the manager?"

"Yes I am. Grigori Koltov, officers. The young woman I called about is back here in the office. I figured it best to move her there, so as not to scare our patrons."

"Any idea who she is, Mr. Koltov?"

"None whatsoever. She looks very scared though and she keeps muttering three words over and over."

"What might those words be?"

"She keeps saying 'Not A God', over and over."

"Right. Well let's have a look at her then."

The two officers in question took one look at her before one of them grabbed his radio unit and called for an ambulance. Whatever had happened to this poor woman, it had been a hellish experience. All they could see of her was her face, and the bottoms of her legs, but even those small areas of flesh were covered in bruises. The ambulance arrived within minutes, and she was taken to a nearby hospital. The officers followed to try and get a statement from her.

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_**Hospital**_

"I'm Detective Benson, Special Victims Unit. This is my partner, Detective Stabler. You called about a possible rape victim?"

"She's in with the docs now. She was in pretty bad shape when we found her Detective."

"Doc? What the hell happened to her?"

"Something very bad, Detectives. She's got relatively fresh bruises on top of older bruises that cover most of her body. All she was wearing when they brought her in was a trench coat and a pair of panties. Rape kit was positive for semen. Multiple donors, it looks like."

"Has she said anything?"

"She's fairly well traumatized. She keeps repeating 'Not a God', over and over. Whatever happened to her it was brutal."

"Thanks, Doc. We'll take the evidence over to the Crime Lab."

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_**Elsewhere**_

"My Lord. Acolyte Apprentice Gabrielle has escaped."

"What! How could she have escaped?"

"I do not know this, my Master. She was in her bed after last night's festivities, but she did not appear with the others for breakfast. I sent an apprentice to seek her out and he returned with the news of her departure."

"Find her. Now!"

It had taken the senior Acolyte less than a day to find the missing Acolyte. Herr Folter had taken three of the stronger male Acolytes with him, to take the wayward apprentice back and to serve as witnesses for disappointing their God and Master. While the evidence was being processed in the Crime Lab, two of the Acolytes were taking Gabrielle from her hospital room. One of them had injected her with a mild sedative and so she put up little or no resistance to their forceful handling.

A few hours later, Gabrielle was on her knees, her ankles tied together, and her hands tied behind her back. She had been made to orally service the four men in the room as she was still in a rather pliable mood from the sedative. Herr Folter then pulled a gun from within his jacket and shot her at short range several times with a large caliber hand gun. But because she had been anchored to a rod set in the floor, so she did not fall over.

He waited, alongside the three senior Acolytes in the room, for her to awaken from her first death. He felt it as a distant tickle in the back of his mind, and he knew that she was coming awake.

"You see, my children. All that I have promised you is real! She awakes even now from her death! She could have served me eternally! Eventually, our Church will be all powerful and all the mere mortals will serve us. As Acolytes you will be the regional governors of my new Kingdom, but all of that is now lost for Gabrielle. She could have lived eternally at the side of one of you; now she will serve the Dark One in Hell!"

With that, Victor Folter pulled his massive broadsword from his coat and swung it in a massive arc that culminated with the separation of her head from her neck. A few seconds later, the immature Quickening within her escaped to hit Folter full on, but it was of so little power that it hardly fazed him. Then with a few more swift blows, he cut her legs and her arms from her body.

"There, my children. The proof that her eternal power was within her always. You will take this tale back to the others. You will tell them what happens to those who disobey the rules of the Church. Senior Acolyte Michael. I have a task for you. Take her legs, and tie them with this barbed wire to a post on the far eastern side of the city. Take her arms and do the same on the far western side of the city. Take her torso, and tie it to the middle span of a bridge over the river. Her head. Her head must be placed on a pike, in front of the hospital from where we rescued her. To serve as a warning that the mortals can not take one of my children from me!"

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_**Hospital**_

_**Some Hours Later**_

Police officers milled about the front of the hospital while a photographer from the crime lab took photos of the head. SVU detectives had been called in because it was their case originally. Now they were angry detectives. The woman who was as yet unidentified had been killed. Her head was on a stick in front of the hospital. Someone was sending a message, yet unless that person knew what the message was, it would go misunderstood.

As the two detectives approached the crime scene, they saw that a medical examiner was already taking an inventory of the body.

"Find anything Doc?"

"Whatever sort of weapon was used to remove the head, it was very sharp and it was done in one stroke."

"One stroke? You sure about that?"

"Not definitely, no. But there are no ragged tears of the skin at the incision area, nor are there any obvious hacking marks. I'd say the weapon was very sharp, and that the perp knew something about anatomy. The blade cut cleanly between the third and fourth vertebrae."

"Alright. When will you be able to give us more details?"

"A few days."

"Right."

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"Stabler, Benson, what did you find?"

"Just a head, Captain. You know, something about this strikes a cord. I think I remember seeing something about a perp out west leaving the heads of his victims on fence posts."

"Put out the basics on the wire. Maybe something will bite."

"Maybe."

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Fort Worth in winter time is a pleasant thing. There was a bit of wintry nip in the air, but not so any Yankee would notice. But to those of us native Texans, you could tell that old man winter had arrived, and with gusto. But of course, all of that was safely outside my office window and I was stuck in here finishing up the daily reports. It was a quiet day, crime-wise, in the metroplex. Of course, that was bound to change, now that I had finally gotten caught up with all the paperwork. And sure enough, here came that change.

"Cap, this just came in off the wire. Thought you might be interested."

"Thanks. Well, well, well. What do we have here. At it again, aren't you, you sonofabitch."

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_**Flashback**_

_**30 October 1986**_

It was just as the locals had reported it. A head mounted on a fence post. Ranger Sheridan had been given the case by his Captain and told to look in to what may well be a hoax. It was no hoax. It made his stomach turn at the sight of it. The road that this fence ran along side was rarely used as it ran to nowhere. Had it not been for a ranch hand riding the fence, looking for problems in the fence line, the head doubtless would have gone undiscovered until there was nothing but a few teeth. Instead, they'd gotten the whole thing mostly intact. There were no obvious tracks on the road, even though it had rained lightly the night before. That told him the head had been there for a few days, and the rain had washed away what little evidence there might have been.

The head was taken to the Harris county ME's office for examination, and Sheridan went to check in with the local Ranger station. A quick search of the missing person's database turned up no leads. Whoever the head belonged to, he didn't have anyone looking for him.

One fruitless interview followed another and by the end of the day, they'd gotten absolutely nowhere. The coroner was still trying to identify the victim through dental records, but that could take time. Time perhaps that they didn't have.

Time proved the Ranger correct in that respect. The phone call went first to the 911 operator in Houston. The response by local police was immediate and the call went up the line to the Texas Ranger assigned to the case. Ranger Sheridan drove to the location and found the Coroner's office hauling out more than a dozen body bags.

"Hey Davis."

"Ranger. Looks like we found the body that head on the post belonged to. Along with a dozen or so more."

"What is this place?"

"It was supposed to be one of those charity haunted houses for Halloween, but someone decided otherwise. The staff that showed up a couple hours ago for work came out screaming. Someone called 911 and the first officer on the scene lost his lunch. It's pretty gruesome in there, Ranger."

"Alright. I guess I gotta take a look eh?"

"I can't go in there again, Ranger. I already have too many images in my head I'd rather not have."

"Perfectly understandable, Lieutenant."

Sheridan got a powerful flashlight from his truck and went in to the building. Not all of the body parts had been removed yet. Arms and legs hanging from the rafters. Torsos nailed to the walls. And heads on sticks. A closer look at one of the sticks showed that it wasn't an average piece of wood. No. It was a pike. A head on a stick sent one message. A head on a pike sent a very different message. Sheridan shuddered and went back into the night air. For sure, he would have nightmares about this case.

_**End Flashback**_

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The person to whom the Ranger Captain was referring was a serial killer that he had first encountered fifteen years previously in Houston. The man had brutally killed twenty-three individuals, including one undercover police officer, followed some six years later by another mass killing in Washington State, before dropping off the scope. Now it looked like he had finally resurfaced, in New York City. He called and got an appointment with the Commandant who had an opening in the next few minutes.

"Captain Sheridan! A good day to you. How goes the desk job?"

"Boring and you know it, sir. But rank does have some privileges, don't it?"

"So they tell me, but I have yet to figure out what those might be. Have a seat Jake, and tell me what's on your mind?"

"Thanks Bill. This just came in off the wire."

"This sounds like that mutt from fifteen-odd years ago."

"Sure does. If it is, I'd like permission to go out to New York, sir."

"We can't take the chance, now can we? Your trip is approved. I'll call out ahead for you."

"Thank you sir. If it's him, I'll get the bastard. If not, I'll lend a hand anyways."

"See that you do. Luck to you Jake."

"Yes sir."

Jacob 'Jake' Sheridan had been a Ranger for almost sixteen years. In that time, he'd been something of a prodigy, making the rise to Captain in only ten years. The case in Houston had been among his first few cases, and it was still unsolved. Well, he'd only been a Ranger for sixteen years under his current incarnation. Being Immortal tended to futz up a good career.

He'd been in a Ranger company back before the States War and had joined up on the correct side. He'd been in most every major battle without so much as a scratch until the end of the war. A bullet fired from a Union soldier's repeater had felled him from his horse. He'd woken up sometime later to find a tall, lanky gentleman staring back at him. His head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it, and there was a decent sized hole in his shirt, but other than that, he was alive.

"Easy now soldier. You're safe for the moment. My name's Pierson. I'm a doctor and you're in my field hospital."

"Your…your uniform is blue."

"Yes, you're in a Union field hospital. You were brought in with the other wounded from the battle. Now, I've got good news and bad news for you."

"Give it to me straight, Doc."

"The bad news is that you were killed in the fighting yesterday. The bullet pierced your heart. I dare say you were dead before your body hit the ground. The good news is that you've made a miraculous recovery."

"Dead? If'n I was dead, then how come I'm speaking to y'all now?"

"You're Immortal. You can not die. Accept it."

"She-it, man, you don't pull any punches, do ya?"

"The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can begin learning what it takes to survive."

"Survive what?"

"The others of our kind that will eventually come for you."

The war had ended shortly thereafter, and Pierson had taken Sheridan under his tutelage and brought him into the Game with proper training. Jake had not had much in the way of a proper education before his becoming Immortal, but after five years under his mentor's strict lessons, he'd returned to Texas. He joined the Rangers again a few years after he'd returned to Texas, claiming that his father had been a Ranger before the war. And every forty years or so, he'd enlist with the Rangers, claiming to be the son of a Ranger that had been killed in the line of duty, or had died of natural causes. And so the Sheridan clan could lay claim to four generations of service to the Texas Rangers. Along the way, he'd taken one other teacher, recommended to him by Pierson, for more advanced training in the martial arts. It was that second teacher that he planned to see first upon his arrival in New York.

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He felt the buzz before he saw him. And then he saw him, and the smiles were wide and clear.

"Connor!"

"Jake!"

"It's good to see you old friend!"

"Likewise! What brings you to New York? Business? Or pleasure?"

"Business, I'm afraid. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't have time for the pleasure of friends!"

"What sort of business?"

"Chasing a criminal, Connor. A serial killer."

"Oh?"

"It's just rather odd, his modus operandi. He sets up a church of all things. Brings in runaways and street people. Gets them to believe in him, then kills them. Dismembers their bodies. He left a nice little calling card for us about fifteen years ago in Houston. He put the severed head of an undercover police office on a pike for us to find."

"A pike?"

"Aye. So far, he's got around five dozen murders under his belt, and quite possibly, another one here in the city."

"That kind of attention, if he's one of us, we do not need!"

"I agree with you, Connor."

"I'll check around, see if anyone knows anything. In the meantime, how about Chinese for supper?"

"Sounds good to me. Been a long time since I've had decent Chinese food."

Jake and Connor had walked quickly to the luggage carousel to retrieve the two bags that Jake had been forced to check. One had his clothes. The other one, his weapons. As a Texas Ranger, he carried his pistol in a holster under his arm, though the airline had been reticent about letting him board with a weapon, but seeing as how he was an officer of the law, they relented after a short while. Still, his second bag held the weapon he needed only for other Immortals. His sword.

"So Jake, you still have a penchant for old weapons?"

"Doesn't every Immortal have a penchant for old weapons? But yes, I do."

"There's an estate sale I was planning to go to in a couple of weeks. Apparently the owner of the estate was a collector of sorts and has, at least according to the brochure, an extensive collection of wartime weaponry."

"Which war?"

"Pretty much every war the US has been involved in since the Revolutionary War. As I said, an extensive collection. I had planned to go primarily for the silver, but perhaps also to pick up a few edged weapons. It's always nice to see a good example of what keeps us alive."

"I agree. And what with the dearth of good sword makers nowadays, I find it helps to obtain swords from previous eras. Hell, Connor, I'm still using the saber the CSA gave to me back in the War for Southern Independence."

"So long as it serves you well, then you should have no complaints."

"This is true. So, Chinese?"

"Chinese."

The rest of the evening passed all too quickly and Jake still had to check in to his hotel. Connor would hear none of it and convinced Jake to stay at his place, as he had plenty of room. Early the next morning, Jake was dressing for his appointment with the NYPD. Steam pressed dark blue jeans with a knife-edge crease, shiny black Roper boots, a long sleeved shirt, of the style he wore during the States War but renewed today as a Cavalry bib shirt, an oilskin duster and his Stetson made the picture complete of a Texas Ranger. Of course, his badge and weapons helped clear up that picture.

Some years ago, Jake had gone to one of those 'attendance required' seminars to learn all about the new 'less-than-lethal' apprehension techniques. He'd gone home from the seminar with an idea about a new type of shotgun and six months later, he presented the first 'Sheridan Special' to his commandant. A tri-barreled shotgun that could be reloaded quickly by a three-round speed loader type clip, like the kind of clip a revolver would take. He hand loaded the shotgun rounds himself, and so each tri-clip held a specific type of round, though if need be he could use off the shelf ammunition as well. One round was pepper gas, another was for taking down doors and was made of compressed powdered metal, while the last was a round loaded with 21 small rubber bullets. He carried five spare clips, four of which were the same as what was loaded in the gun, while the fifth had one armor piercing round, made to stop a truck, and two flechette rounds, each one loaded with fifteen sharpened steel darts that could shred anything in their path.

He wore the Sheridan Special strapped to his right leg, his not-so-standard issue Desert Eagle in fifty Action Express in the holster under his arm, and a back-up weapon at the small of his back. If he ever had the need to pull that weapon it would mean he was in serious trouble indeed. It was a three barreled Derringer type that he picked up at a gun show in Fort Worth. Two rounds of forty-five caliber and one four-ten shotgun round loaded with half a dozen sharpened steel flechettes as a last ditch effort to stop a perp. He caught a cab outside and went down to the Police Station where he would meet one Captain Cragen with whom he had an appointment for 9am.

"Good morning to you Sergeant. I wonder if you could direct me to Captain Cragen? I have an appoint for 9am."

"Yeah. Just a sec. What's your name?"

"Jacob Sheridan. Texas Ranger."

"Texas Ranger? Wow. Don't think I've ever met one of you! Follow me please."

The Sergeant led him down numerous hallways until they came to a rather average looking squad room. There were numerous detectives, or at least he thought they were detectives sitting at various desks performing the task that was the bane of every police officer everywhere; paperwork. The Sergeant pointed him at a closed door and then left. Sheridan knocked and then entered.

"Captain Donald Cragen?"

"Let me guess. You're the Texas Ranger the Commissioner said was coming to see me."

"Was it the blue jeans that gave me away?"

"Nope. Musta been the hat."

"Darn it. And here I was trying to look inconspicuous too. 'Morning Captain. I'm Jacob Sheridan, Texas Ranger, but you can call me Jake. Did your commissioner fill you in on the purpose of my visit?"

"He mentioned a case that we're working on, but maybe you can tell me more about it?"

"Who's the primary on the case?"

"Do they need to be in here?"

"It would help to go over this as few times as possible. The less graphic imagery in my head, the better."

"Ok. Stabler! Benson! My office, now!"

"What's going on Cap?"

"Detectives Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson. This is Captain Jacob Sheridan of the Texas Rangers. He has some information on the 'head' case."

"Nice to meetcha."

"Pleasure to meet you, Ranger."

"Likewise. First off, I need to ask y'all a few questions. Reason is I'm not entirely sure that the perp I'm after is the same mutt you're after. As I understand it, you found one victim, a female, mid-twenties. Signs of severe trauma, repeated beatings, and decapitation. Is that correct?"

"Correct so far."

"Did you, by chance, find any tattoos, any sort of religious markings or symbols?"

"Yes. One tattoo. Found on the inside of the upper leg. We haven't been able to identify the symbol though"

"May I see a photograph of that symbol?"

"Sure, here you go."

"As I suspected. KS. Inscribed in a triangle. You said her head was on a stick?"

"A pike actually."

"A pike you say? Yeah, your mutt sounds like the one I've been after for quite some years. KS stands for the _Kirche des Sammelns_, or the Church of the Gathering. It's a cult type church, for lack of a better way to describe them. The records I've managed to find say that they originated in Germany sometime during World War II. Only one time has any law enforcement agency managed to get someone in on the inside. That was in Houston in 1986. The officer in question thought he was infiltrating a drug operation masquerading as a cult. He paid for the truth with his life. The leader of this 'church' has been indicted in absentia in Texas on Murder One."

"So this leader fancies himself a 'Jim Jones'?"

"Worse. In that case, all of the cultists were enticed into drinking the cyanide, but Mr. Jones didn't behead or dismember his followers. We don't have any clue why this guy does. In all of the bodies found to date, in Texas, and in Washington, the victims all had their hearts shredded by a large caliber bullet shortly before their beheadings."

"If this is the same killer we're after, then he won't stop with just one victim, will he?"

"Afraid not Captain. You've got a serial killer on the loose with at least 58 victims under his belt. Add to that one police officer in Houston, and what you've got is a skilled killer. But before you go off and consult the FBI, let me just add that they've already tried to give us a profile, but can't. Sure what they gave us before worked for a bit, then wham! He goes off and changes his pattern. What's worse is that we have no idea how he chooses his victims or how he recruits them into his church.

"I've been on this guy's trail for fifteen solid years. I hope to be able to help you all catch him. I don't care if you claim the collar, all I want is to get him off the street."

"How do you know it's a male perp?"

"There is the strength factor at play here."

"Strength factor?"

"Detective Benson. How many female criminals or females in general do you know that can cut a head off in one stroke?"

"Not too many. I see your point. The head we found was taken off with one stroke. That implies a significant amount of strength and a very sharp weapon, either an axe or a sword."

"Great. All we need is another damned head-hunter."

"_Another_ head-hunter, Cap?"

"It was summer of 1985, Elliot. I was young and dumb and in uniform riding patrol when some bodies turned up headless. The press called it a 'head-hunter'. A few weeks after it started, the detectives on that case caught a break with a live witness who gave a description. Shortly thereafter, another body turned up and its head matched the description. There were maybe five or six killings back then, and then they stopped. But all his victims were men. No women involved back then."

"And if the perp in that case turned up dead, and you never caught who killed him, well, I'm not sure that it would be the same guy. Did the detectives back then ever have a suspect?"

"They did Olivia. Some guy named Nash. Antiques dealer."

"Russell Nash? Russell Nash was a suspect?"

"You know him Ranger Sheridan?"

"Know him? I'm staying with him in town. He and I have been friends for what seems like forever. He was my instructor for advanced martial arts. My family has known his family for decades. I can't believe this. Nash, a suspect. Who woulda thunk it? I'll have some stuff to hold over his head at dinner tonight."

"Captain? Sorry to interrupt, but we've got another one. ConEd repair guys doing some light-pole maintenance found two arms tied with barbed wire to a pole."

"Benson, Stabler. Take the Ranger with you. Munch and Fin, go with them and help canvas the area. If this guy is the same one you're after Ranger, then he's a bona-fide serial killer. I'm gonna call the Chief and get us some help on this one. Ranger, since you're the most familiar with his methods, would you be willing to meet with our forensic psychiatrist to see if maybe he can do what others have failed to do; come up with a profile?"

"Sure thing, Captain Cragen."

"Get going. You've got a crime scene to investigate!"

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_**1942**_

_**German Occupied France**_

Major Kruger and Captain Folter were riding in the back of a staff car. They had orders to report to the commandant at Stalag 22, a POW camp where they would interrogate some American prisoners. The road they were on was a dark one, lined as it was on both sides by a forest. They were perhaps halfway to the camp when shots rang out. The driver took two hits, one in the chest and another in the face. Both officers dismounted from the vehicle, one from either side, only to find French Resistance fighters waiting for them. The Resistance fighters emptied their guns into the bodies of the officers and they fell in bloody heaps.

Folter was quite dead, having taken at least thirty shots at near point blank range in the chest. Kruger was also dead; the recipient of a dozen rounds from an American made Tommy-gun. But Kruger was an Immortal with some three millennia of life under his belt. The rounds knocked him down. They even killed him. But his Immortal energies revived him fairly quickly. Kruger stood up.

"French swine! Do you not realize it takes more to kill a God than your mortal weapons! Die!"

He made quick work of them, swinging his broadsword in bold arcs, lopping off arms and heads like a scythe through wheat. When all were dead, he knelt next to the body of his young protégée and waited for him to arise from his first death.

Nearly thirty minutes passed before Folter suddenly gasped for breath.

"Herr Major? You're alive? I swear I saw you die?"

"I did die. For that matter so did you. But as you can see the weapons these mere mortals carry can not harm us. We are Gods, you and I. We cannot die."

"How can this be, Herr Major?"

"No one knows why we are here, Herr Folter, just that we are. There are three things you must know Captain. Three laws that govern our kind. First, all of our battles are one on one. Second, you must never fight on Holy Ground. This is our only refuge from others of our kind. Last, you must fight all who challenge you. In the end, only one will claim the Prize."

"What prize, Herr Major?"

"Dominion over all mortal men for all eternity! Come now, my brother. I have much to teach you."

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_**Summer, 1985**_

_**Letter to Victor Folter**_

_My brother. Hopefully all will go as planned this night. I believe I have finally deciphered that Arab's riddle. My first mentor was wise and strong, but when he turned his back to me, I took his head. Never turn your back on one of our kind, even one who you call friend, for surely they will not hesitate to take your head. Three thousand years I have roamed this planet, and yet the time of the Gathering grows no closer. _

_I have followers here; all of them pre-Immortals. Thirty-six, I believe, is the magic number. Tonight all of them will die. I have arranged a device which will cut their heads off simultaneously. It is my desire that this will trigger a gathering. If you receive this, then I have failed, and thirty six was not the magic number. Continue my work, my brother. I have trained you well. It is only just that since I have failed, that the Prize go to you. _

_Remember me._

Victor Kruger had completed his ritual and had shot each victim twice in the heart while they slept. None awoke to the silenced shots. He then slammed a dagger into the hearts of each one of them, so that they would not awaken from their first death until he decreed it. Each body was lowered into place along a specially built guillotine, that would sever nine heads at once, and he had built four such devices. As soon as his experiment was ready in all respects, he moved quickly about the room, pulling daggers from the chests of the dead. Kruger had made a square of each row of guillotines with himself at the center. His children awoke now and found themselves bound to their spots on the floor. The look in their eyes was one of pure terror.

"The time has come Children. Tonight, I will feast on your souls!"

Kruger pulled on a rope which in turn released a counter weight that sent four long and sharp blades crashing down on their victims. Not all the heads hit the floor at once, but it was a close thing. All of a sudden, a white mist began to pour out of each body. The mist grew until it was as dense as a rain cloud. Lighting bolts formed in the center of the cloud and struck out with anger at the upright target in the center. Kruger was hit with round after round and bolt after bolt. The very air seemed to take on an electrical charge all its own. For some strange reason, only a few Immortals felt the pull of the Gathering, almost as if some unseen hand were directing their actions. Sunda Kastagir. Iman Fasil. Vasilich. Connor MacLeod.

The mini-gathering ended just as quickly as it had begun, and at the end, Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, took the head of the Kurgan.

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_**Present**_

_**New York City**_

It was a warehouse district near the river where they found the body parts. Two arms had been tied to a light pole, with barbed wire of all things. But just the arms. Nothing else to indicate that this had once been the complete body of a twenty-something woman.

A few hours later, another police unit called in to Special Victims to say that they had found two legs, sans body, tied to a street lamp with barbed wire.

An hour after that, someone finally noticed a legless, armless, headless torso tied to the central support column of the Brooklyn Bridge. It too, had been tied there with barbed wire.

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_**Late Evening**_

_**NYPD Coroner's Office**_

"Heya Doc. Got all the parts?"

"You have a strange sense of humor Detective Munch."

"I've heard that one before, Doc. Anything yet?"

"CSU managed to pull a number of intact prints from her hospital room. After we eliminated the prints from the staff there, there were several unidentified ones until a few minutes ago. One set came back as a match for a Michael Kelly. The other one turned up in AFIS, but I'm doubtful of that one."

"Any particular reason Doc?"

"It matched to something in the Immigration records from the fifties. A man who entered the US who at the time was in his thirties. If he's still alive, he'd be in his eighties. No, I'm thinking that since the record is that old, that's it's a mistake."

"Probably."

"We did manage to pull one slug from her heart. Big thing too. IBIS shows it as a fifty caliber."

"I'm surprised there was anything left of her chest after a hit from that!"

"Me too, Munch."

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_**SVU Squad Room**_

"Elliot, here's the ME's report."

"Two prints and one usable slug?"

"Well, unless one of the perps is an eighty year old, I think it's only one print."

"Huh?"

"One of the prints CSU took from the hospital room came back as belonging to a German national that emigrated to the US in the early fifties. The Immigration form says he was thirty-two at the time."

"Any name on that print?"

"Damn! Ranger. You scared the bejeezus outta me. How'd you manage to sneak up on me like that?"

"Well, I'm a Texas Ranger now, but once upon a time I was an Army Ranger too. So, about that print?"

"According to Immigration, it belongs to a Dieter Eckhard."

"Hmmm. Hell of a name."

"How so, Ranger?"

"Look at the etymology of it."

"The what?"

"The etymology. It's a study of names and the origins of names. Dieter. It means 'Warrior of the People' in German. Eckhard. It means 'the hardy edge of the sword'."

"Hell of a hobby you got there, Ranger."

"It sometimes helps to know why a perp chooses a particular name. Course, in this case, that's neither here nor there."

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_**Elsewhere in NYC**_

Herr Folter was a man vexed by a problem. His first and only instructor had attempted to bring about the Gathering and had failed. But he had also partially succeeded. The Kurgan had sacrificed thirty six young Immortals and had drawn to him several older Immortals, but the release of that many Quickenings had not brought about the Gathering. Folter had taken twenty-two souls from his followers in Texas, and nothing had happened. He'd taken thirty-one souls in Washington, and nothing had happened. His master had taken thirty-six and had triggered a miniature Gathering. But his Master had lost his head at the end to MacLeod.

The Kurgan had once told him the tale of the Highlander, and his pursuit of him across the centuries. He had taken the Highlander's mentor and then his woman, but had missed the Highlander. Herr Kruger had blamed Ramirez for the scar that ran across his throat. A scar on any other part of the body would have long since vanished in an Immortal, but a cut across the throat was tantamount to a severed head, and such cuts did not heal well at all.

Folter hoped to cause a Gathering. He hoped to gain enough souls to feed him, to increase his strength. But more than that, he hoped and prayed to a God he no longer believed in, that at the end, it would be only himself and the Highlander who were left. Then he would take his head, avenge his mentor, and claim his rightful place as King over all mortals.

In his first life, he been a masterful interrogator for the Nazis. Though it could be said that they were of little vision , they did have some brilliant ideas when it came to disposing of mere mortals. Had der Fuhrer been an Immortal like himself, the Reich would not have fallen as it had. He had escaped the witch hunts after the war, when so many of his fellows had been tried at Nuremberg.

His computer 'dinged!' to let him know that an email had arrived. So many changes in the world in so short a time. Technological wonders never ceased to amaze him. It was from a source, a friend of his who worked for the local police, a man who fancied himself a Nazi. Folter snorted at the mere image of such a man trying to impress his fellow SS with his fervor. But what was this? The police had a lead? And they had help as well? Jacob Sheridan. Texas Ranger. This might prove to be a very good day indeed, despite the fact that young Gabrielle had been sent to serve the Dark One in Hell.

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_**Flashback**_

_**November 1986**_

Folter had so much wanted to be on hand when these stupid mortals came in to find the nice details he had added to that charity haunted house. But he settled for the series of discreet surveillance cameras he had left inside and outside the facility. They would never be noticed, even by the so-called detailed examinations of the local Police, and then in a few days, he would retrieve the cameras and their precious footage.

He had watched as the first workers arrived at the building, only to run out screaming. He had listened to the intercepted phone call, the desperate plea for help.

"911. What is your emergency?"

"Bodies. Oh my God. Bodies. Lots of them. Hurry! Please come quickly!"

He had watched as the first police officer arrived on the scene, responding to what was believed to be a prank for Halloween. He sat amused as the police officer entered the building and emerged after less than a minute, pale as a sheet of fine white linen, and puked his dinner in the gutter. He sat amused and laughing with dark glee as more cars arrived, screeching their arrival with strips of black rubber burned into the pavement. And he had watched as pick-up truck, of the type that was so prevalent in Texas, pulled up to the scene, and a man in a long greatcoat and cowboy hat exited the vehicle. A man he had later identified as a Texas Ranger.

_**End Flashback**_

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He had heard the legend of these Rangers. And perhaps, had the circumstances been different, he would have seen the man as an equal. The Texas Rangers were the elite of the state's police force. These were men who were fully dedicated to the pursuit of criminals and their deeds. Men who would stop at nothing to bring the evil to justice. Such a man was a soldier, defending the innocent from those who prey upon them. Folter had been a soldier once. In this Ranger he saw a kindred spirit. One, who though mortal, would have a chance at understanding him.

He'd seen him again, in the surveillance footage from his compound in Washington state. Perhaps the legends of these Rangers had more truth in them than falsehood? And now, here he was again. In New York City, trying to find Folter. Folter resolved at that moment to taunt the Ranger. To entice him to meet with him. It would certainly make for a better hunt than he'd had in decades. But how to do this? He would have to think on this subject.

----------------------------------------

_**Next Day**_

_**SVU Squad Room**_

New York City had awoken to the fact of one more murder in its environs. But what was one more murder in a city that had so many of them? New Yorkers paid little attention to the story, for the moment buried in the local news section on page twelve of the local paper. For the detectives of the SVU, and for one Texas Ranger, it was business as usual. They would need to capture this man, this 'cult leader' before he could claim any more lives. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only case on their plates. At least not for the detectives of the Special Victims unit. For Sheridan, it was his only case. This was one case he wanted solved before he retired. That's what he was thinking on of late. Moving on. Perhaps another tour in the military after this life with the Rangers was over. Sixteen years he'd been with the Rangers, with time off in 1991, when his reserve unit had been activated for Desert Storm.

Folter was still thinking on a way to taunt the Ranger. He remembered something his mentor had once told him. Once upon a time, centuries ago, pre-Immortals had been hard to come by. The Kurgan had liked to take his time back then. Teaching them, training them to fight. But, Folter thought, in this new age, where a man could circumnavigate the globe in a day, his only goal for the moment, was the hunt. All the better if the target didn't know they were being hunted. He wondered for an idle moment, just how much of a challenge a Ranger could put up for him. He tended to go after newly born Immortals, especially ones he had created, but he might have to make an exception in this case. He wondered for a moment, if the Fates had decreed this challenge to him. One day, he would be powerful enough to avenge his teacher by taking the head of the elder MacLeod, and on that day, his life task would be over and the hunt would finally end.

Jake was unaware of the man and his thoughts. He was tagging along with Detectives Munch and Tutuola as they made the rounds of their Confidential Informants, but none had any information related to this new player in town.

As Jake made the rounds about town, Acolyte Michael came in to see his Master.

"Master. I have found a possible new apprentice for you."

"Yes? Tell me."

"She is above average in beauty. Twenty-four years of age. A graduate student of philosophy at the University. I met her in the library there. I engaged her in a philosophical discussion on the merits of the news of cloning as reported in the local papers last week. She proved to have a quick mind, and a sharp wit. And she bears the signature feeling you have told me to look for."

"Excellent! Bring her to me!"

"As you wish, my Master."

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The woman in question was again the library, studying for a finals examination she had the next day. She didn't know what had made her take the course in deviant psychology, but it had proved an interesting choice. Just now, she was reading a monograph by a brilliant psychologist that she had learned worked for the FBI. She wondered, not for the first time, whether she should follow in her adopted father's footsteps, or try for a spot at the FBI academy in Quantico.

"Hey there Meredith! Nice to see you again."

"Hi Michael. Studying for finals?"

"Nah. All done with mine. You?"

"Psyche exam tomorrow morning. Professor Luder has a fondness for a few FBI profilers, and I'm reading one of the assigned monographs."

"Could I interest you in a study break? Hot chocolate maybe?"

"You know, that sounds really good right about now. I'll leave my books here, but I'm taking my purse."

"Yeah. Ya can't be too careful nowadays."

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"Master."

"Acolyte Michael. What news of the young beauty?"

"She fell asleep in my vehicle after she drank the drugged chocolate. She awaits you in your chambers, my Lord."

"Let us go see our new prize then."

Unfortunately for her, Meredith was everything that Folter could want in a woman. Attractive and intelligent. It was also unfortunate that she wouldn't be missed for a few days. While true that she did grow up in the same city as her university, she happened to live in an apartment in the Village, well away from her parents' home in Westchester. The fact that she wouldn't show up for her final examinations over the next few days, and then would be late in her weekly call to her mother, would only inform the police of her disappearance a week after the event.

----------------------------------------

_**One week later**_

One week with no new clues and no solid leads to follow. The one print they had for Michael Kelly had been a dead end. He'd been reportedly killed in a bar room brawl two years before, according to his former foster parents. The print for Eckhard had been even less fruitful, as the man in question had died shortly after his arrival in the United States.

The sergeant on duty at the front desk walked into the squad room with a package. It was addressed to 'the Texas Ranger'.

"Ranger Sheridan? Messenger dropped this package off a few minutes ago."

"Hmm? A package? But I wasn't expecting anything."

Jake and the two detectives had looked up at the mention of a package The first hint of trouble came when Jake realized that there was no return address. The second came when he saw no postmarks of any kind.

"Anyone know how this got here?"

"Arrived by messenger about fifteen minutes ago."

"That explains the lack of a post mark. Doesn't however, explain the lack of a return address. Y'all might want to stand back for this one."

"Ranger?"

"If anyone sent me a package, it would be clearly marked. That there's none on this package makes me suspicious."

So saying, Jake reached into his duster and pulled out a small toolset. The first item was a small paper thin and credit card sized scanner which was designed to detect any sort of electrical emissions from the package. None were present. Nor were there any electrical impulses of any kind either. That ruled out wires in the tape. Very carefully, he began to cut away at the brown paper wrapping the box.

All the time while Jake was examining the package, Captain Cragen, having been advised of the situation, had evacuated the area of personnel and had called for a bomb squad. He was surprised when he saw Jake scanning the box and then shaking his head and start to cut open the box. I have to get this man's file from the Rangers. First a detective and now it looks like he's got experience with bombs too. I wonder what else I should know about this man or risk a heart attack.

By now, Jake had removed the outer wrapper. The box was plain white with no obvious sign of a manufacturer. The box was not taped together and so Jake carefully pulled the top of the box off. Inside he found a note, a lock of hair, and a necklace, all of which he photographed before removal.

_Hello Ranger. We've never met, you and I, but I feel as though I've known you all of my life. You and I, we could be brothers. We both take pleasure in the hunt. You hunt criminals, I hunt mortals. Though our prey may be different, we are alike. It should please you to know that HPD Officer Garcia died quickly and painlessly. He too was a soldier, though perhaps not as highly ranked as either you or I. The others, the insignificant insects whose souls I laid claim to, they are nothing, they mean nothing. But you. You I shall relish the thrill of the chase, the exquisite pleasures of the hunt. You are a subject worthy of my attentions._

_There are still areas of this world of ours where there are no rules. You are an elite police officer. I am an elite hunter. You are my ultimate prey, and I am your ultimate predator. I kill for sport. I kill for pleasure. I kill to feast on the souls of my prey. Be honored, Ranger, for I have chosen you for my next hunt._

This was _so **not**_good, thought Jake. Now the bastard was taunting him! And what's this? Under the note were two books. The first one was really a pamphlet. Nothing major, except the title. Handbook of the _Kirche des Sammelns_. The second book however, that one gave him cause to fear. 'Kazaks and Kurgans: A History of the Tribes of the Steppes.' Oh bloody hell. Someone who knew the Kurgan. Perhaps someone who worshipped the Kurgan. This was so _not_ good at all.

"Ranger? You ok? You look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Huh? What? Ghost? Nah, I'm ok. Rat bastard knows I'm here. Knows I'm after him. He's taunting me."

"What else is in the box?"

"A lock of hair. And a necklace. The name on the necklace says 'Meredith'."

"Meredith?"

"Yep. Either a current 'follower' of his, or a past victim."

"Wonderful."

In the background, a phone rang. Jake could make out only one side of the conversation, but he knew it was not good.

"Cragen…yes sir…we are sir…of course, sir. We'll get on it right away sir."

"Listen up people! That was the Commissioner! He says his daughter called home and claims that she's been kidnapped. She kept saying 'Not a God', over and over before the line was cut off. Munch, take Fin and get any statements from any witnesses you can find. Captain Sheridan? Think you can help us out on this one?"

"It's him, sir. He's got her. But he's made a mistake. He taunted me. He wants to hunt me. I'm sorry, Captain Cragen, but your troops will have to work without me for a few hours. I have to follow up on this lead."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Take Benson with you. Stabler, you're with me. Let's go examine the crime scene."

"Sure thing Cap."

----------------------------------------

"So…where to, Ranger?"

"Hudson Street. Nash Antiquities."

"The same Russell Nash that Captain Cragen was talking about when you first arrived?"

"The one and the same. He's something of a specialist in ancient tribes. He might be able to give me an insight into this nut's mind."

"Sure. Let's go then."

It was a good hour later that they pulled up to the antiques store owned by Russell Nash, what with traffic as bad as it normally is in Manhattan. He felt the brush of Connor's Quickening and hoped that Connor would not mind that he had brought a friend.

"Jake? Back so soon?"

"The case has taken a strange turn Russell. A turn that I hope you might be able to give some insight to."

"Jacob Sheridan! You're manners are atrocious! Now, while my friend picks his jaw up off the floor, allow me to introduce myself, since he saw fit to not do so. Russell Nash, at your service."

"Detective Olivia Benson, Special Victims Unit. I'm just going to look around while you two talk?"

"Feel free to do so. If you are interested, I have a collection of antique weapons on the second floor."

"Thanks, that might be fun to look at."

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"Tell me Jake, what brings you here so early?"

"I got a package at work a short while ago. There was a short note, taunting my ineptitude, and a book in the package. The writer of the note claims that he wants to hunt me to feed off my soul. The book was about the tribes of the Steppes, particularly the Kurgans."

"I had hoped to never hear that particular name again.

"Did that beast have any students?"

"I can't imagine that he would have left any of them alive, Jake. What else did the note say? What are you not telling me?"

"He wants to meet me, I think. There's a reference to a church, and a time. I think that I will go and meet him. At the very least, I can take him into custody and be rid of him."

"You have your sword with you?"

"Always, old friend."

"Watch your head. Speaking of swords, I got a call earlier from your first teacher. Seems he just got into town and wanted to stop by tonight for a drink. I told him you were here and he hoped to see you too. Very shortly, we'll be joined by another of our kind. Perhaps all of us together can help you catch this crazed killer?"

"We shall have to see if Adam is interested in helping, my friend."

"You'll have to see if who is interested in helping?"

"Detective Benson. You startled me. Russell was just telling me that a mutual friend of ours is coming into town for an estate sale, I had hoped to attend while I was here. Apparently there are a number of antique weapons included in this sale, and I had hoped to snare a few pieces for my collection. However I find myself short on cash, and I was hoping Russell here might help me with a loan."

"Oh. Well. Ok then. Was he able to help you with that gift you received?"

"Yes. About that Russell. You'll have to fill me in on what you know of the Kurgans."

"Not really my area of expertise, more Pierson's bailiwick than mine. He's due here in an hour or so, perhaps we could meet you later?"

"That'll work. I'll call you in a couple hours. We'll meet someplace for drinks. I've got a single malt whiskey you really should try. Damned smooth!"

----------------------------------------

It was a pair of hours later and the crime scene had been thoroughly examined. No clues were present, but Jake already knew it was the Kurgan's student that had done this. All that he had heard about that beast of a man told him he was not one to take on a student. That he had done so did not bode well for the Commissioner's daughter, now in his custody.

It was a luxury building, the likes of which fairly reeked of money. The type of building a visiting cattle baron would buy, just for a weekend party. The builder had set up the floors so that only one apartment was to be had per floor, giving the residents ample space to do as they pleased. The fact that each apartment was completely soundproofed as well made it especially appealing to the man currently known as Victor Folter. The real Victor Folter had passed on some years ago, but all of his mail still went to the same place, and all of his credit cards were untouched and the credit lines secured by a bank vault filled with gold in Capetown.

The Kurgan had found him practicing his torture on the prisoners in his cells during the Second World War. He could scarcely remember what the critical information it was that he sought from the prisoners, but the fact that it gave him the opportunity to practice his technique was all that mattered. Whether his prisoners talked or not, whether they gave up important information or inconsequential information mattered not. What mattered was the dark art he practiced with ease. He had become an Immortal during the Second World War equivalent of a drive-by shooting. But already the Kurgan had been with him, and after his first death, the Kurgan had taken him on as a student, had trained him to stalk his prey and to kill efficiently and quickly. He had learned quickly and took to his gift like a duck to water. He knew that shy of losing his head, no death would be permanent. It was like a gift from the Gods of old. His Master was an old Immortal, and very wise in the ways of warfare.

But then he had left his pupil to his own devices. And the man now known as Victor Folter became a mercenary, hiring himself out to whatever petty government needed his special brand of skills, and for a few decades, it kept him in a lifestyle that he never had before his first death.

And now he was here in New York City, the very city where his Master lost his head. He was after the Highlander, and he would take his head when only he and the Highlander remained at the end of the Gathering. There was no pattern that Jake could see that drove the man. The man collected followers. And at some point in time, that only Folter could determine, he took the heads of his followers, feasting on their immature Quickenings, like a man might feast on a good steak. But this man, this killer, had made a mistake. He had taken the adopted offspring of someone that could pull all of the resources of the New York Police Department to bear.

Elsewhere in the city, Victor watched his latest 'guest' with growing anticipation. She was a pretty young woman, full of life, and at the moment, full of fear. She was twenty-four years of age. In the time before his first death, she would have been married by now and she was certainly of child bearing age. Yes, by the time he and his senior Acolytes were done with her, she'd have experienced every form torture he had ever developed, and none would give her any pleasure. For this was not about her, but solely about his pleasure.

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_**8:00PM**_

_**Cathedral of St. Patrick**_

The Church was mostly empty at this late hour, but there were a few people here and there in the pews, silently praying to the God they believed in. Truthfully, Jake had never really been a church going sort of man, even before his first death. He didn't believe in God per se, but he did believe that there was a higher power at play in the universe. A power with an oft-times odd sense of humor.

The feeling of another Immortal hit him suddenly and he wondered who else could be in this Church. The he saw a man coming up to him. He sat down in one of the rear most pews, and the man took a seat in front of him.

"Ranger Sheridan. At last we meet. I had not thought you to be like me. In truth, I saw you as a potential adversary, a soldier like myself. But here we meet at last and you are more like me than I had imagined. The same eternal power that flows through me, flows through you as well. This shall be a most enjoyable hunt!"

"Who was the Kurgan to you? Why did you send me that book?"

"The Kurgan? He was my teacher. He was the one that taught me the ways of our kind. Do you have any affairs you need to tend to before we begin our hunt?"

"As a matter of fact, yes I do."

"Then I shall be considerate of that fact. You had not thought me to be one of us, and perhaps you are not as prepared as you would like to be. Tomorrow evening, this same time, at the Arsenal in Central Park. We shall begin there."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why do I want to hunt you?"

"No, you sick fuck, why do you take their heads? Why so many at once?"

"Ah, that. It is so simple, you will hurt yourself for not realizing it sooner. My Master, the Kurgan, claimed it was a method taught to him by an old Arab Immortal, who in turn claimed to have learned the technique from the Great and Powerful Methos before that same Arab took the head of Methos. The exact number of simultaneous Quickenings has been lost to time, but a certain number of simultaneous Quickenings will bring about the Gathering.

"My Master almost succeeded once. In 1985, he caused the simultaneous beheading of thirty six of our kind, and caused several of our kind to come to this place. I have failed enough times that with my next attempt, I know I will succeed. But first, I will take your head. Then I will trigger the Gathering. Then I will win my matches and make sure that the Highlander wins his. In the end, when just he and I are left, I will take his head, avenging my Master, and taking the prize for myself."

"Fine. Tomorrow then. On one condition however."

"State your terms then."

"If I win, and before I take your head, you will tell me where your followers are."

"And if I win, Ranger?"

"Can't help you there."

"Very well. Your condition is acceptable. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night I will hunt you and you will die. Enjoy your final night on this dreary little world."

Jake looked at his watch and realized he was supposed to have met Connor some twenty minutes previously. He made his departure and arrived ten minutes later at a cop bar frequented by the detectives assigned to the Special Victims Unit.

He could feel the rather large disjointed Quickening from just outside the bar. As he got closer to the entrance, the sensation he felt resolved itself into two distinct Quickenings. Behind him, Benson and Stabler were quickly approaching. Jake hoped that it had nothing to do with the case. After the day he'd had, what he wanted most was a good stiff drink and the company of friends, though not necessarily in that order.

"Detectives Benson and Stabler. Please tell me you're just here for a drink and not to drag me off to a crime scene?"

"Relax, Ranger. Just here for a drink. But the Cap says he wants to see you bright an early in his office tomorrow, so don't overdo it tonight."

"My limit is three. Ah, I see my friends now. If you'll excuse me?"

"Sure. See you in the morning."

"Likewise."

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"Connor! Adam!"

"Jake! Sit down, take a load off."

"Connor, I did say I would introduce you to a new brand of whiskey. This bar doesn't stock it, but that's their loss. So I stopped earlier today and picked up a bottle of twelve year old whiskey. Try it. And give me your honest opinion."

"Pour away, Jake."

Jake kept the bottle well hidden, but still managed to pour out three good stiff shots for his friends. Well, two for his friends and one for himself. He had been introduced to Laphroiag whiskey by a retired Ranger a few years before and had drunk nothing else since then. He had tried other Scottish whiskeys but always came back to this one as its taste was an excellent combination of smoky smoothness and fine wheat. One could almost taste the age of the oaken barrels used in the fermentation process. It was uniquely bold and it went well with his very unique friends.

"Jake. I've had many Scottish whiskeys in my time, from home brews to mass produced bottles, but this is, well, there's no word I can use to properly describe its wondrous flavor. Tell me the brand! I simply must buy a few cases!"

"Laphroiag. Occasionally I'll come across a bottle or two of forty year Laphroiag, but that's a rare occurrence. The forty year is even better."

"Well then, with such a fine whiskey, let me make a toast. To a long and good life!"

"Long life! You always were a man of few words, Connor. But a fine teacher you were as well. And now, old friend, have you any thoughts for me on what we discussed this afternoon?"

"Ah yes. The Kurgan."

At the mention of that name, Adam's eyes went wide.

"The Kurgans were a tribe of peoples from the steppes of what is now Russia. It is said that they would throw young children into pits with wild dogs to fight for scraps of food. They considered it a game of sport. The Kurgan is said to have been the only child to ever survive in the pits for more than a year. He was trained to be a brutal and precise killer. He showed no mercy to his opponents. If he had a student, I'm sure he would have given him the same type of training as he himself received."

"Why the sudden interest in the Kurgan, Jake? I'm mean, we're all very grateful that Connor managed to take his head, but that's just it. His head is gone and he's out of the Game. Permanently."

"Would you believe I met a student of his, not more than an hour ago? He did not know that I am long lived. Just like him. According to him, it makes us brothers of a sort. I guess, after a fashion, we are brothers, inasmuch as all Immortals are probably related. He challenged me. I have decided to accept the challenge. Tomorrow at 8pm at the Arsenal in Central Park."

"Did he say why he was collecting followers? Why he was taking their heads?"

"He claimed that he was following instructions his teacher, the Kurgan, obtained from some now dead Arab Immortal, who in turn claimed to have gotten the information from Methos, before taking his head."

"The Arab claimed to have taken Methos' head? Or did this young upstart make that claim?"

"This person claimed that it was the Arab that took the head of Methos. Do you know anything about these legends?"

"Can't say that I do laddie. Are you going to meet him? Are you going to allow him to hunt you?"

"Yes. And while he might consider himself a great hunter, I will prove him an idiot when I take his head."

"Do you need anything from us?"

"I wish there was some way to empty the Park of mortals, but I will do what is necessary."

"Well and good. Let us move this party to more private surroundings, Connor. Jacob, your two police friends are still at the bar. It may be beneficial to us to have some help from the Police if we are to clear the Park. Tell them whatever you need to tell them, but remember, our secret must be kept."

"If you'll excuse me, I'll go and get them. Your place in half an hour, Connor?"

"Aye. Sounds good."

----------------------------------------

"Detective Benson. Good. You're still here. I've just been given an excellent idea on the case, and I'd like to run it past you and your partner, and Captain Cragen, if you can find him in the next few minutes."

"I'll find him, Liv. You gonna brief us now or when we're all here?"

"When Cragen joins us. But not here. Have him meet us at Nash Antiquities on Hudson Street. All will be explained there. Under more private circumstances."

"I'll tell him."

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_**Forty-five minutes later, Hudson Street, Nash Antiquities**_

"Connor, friends. I'd like you to meet three of the local law enforcement folks I've been working with since my arrival here in the city. Captain Donald Cragen, Detective Olivia Benson, and Detective Elliot Stabler. The quiet one staring out the window is Adam Pierson. Our host, is Connor MacLeod. And I, of course, am Jake Sheridan.

"I've asked you three to be here because there is something you need to know, and hopefully something you can help me with."

"We're all ears, Ranger."

"In a few minutes, you might be very angry too. A few hours ago, I met with our perp. In a church. He wasn't there to confess his sins, and I sure as hell ain't no priest. I didn't tell you everything that was in that note. He wants to hunt me. He sees me as the ultimate prey. Well, I'm gonna let him do just that. Only, he's gonna find out I ain't that easy to kill."

"Are you nuts!"

"Certifiable, I'd guess. What I need from you is the complete isolation of Central Park, beginning at six pm tomorrow night, and lasting till probably ten am the next morning. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt. Will the NYPD do that?"

"We're going to need some kind of proof, Ranger."

"If I win, that is if the predator becomes the prey, then he'll come in quietly and tell where all of his followers are. If I lose, well, I'm counting on either MacLeod or Pierson to avenge me."

"Now why would we want to let you do something stupid like that?"

"Before I go any further, I must extract a promise from you three. You must swear by everything you believe in that what I am about to tell you, you will take with you to your graves. No one can ever know this secret. Do you swear it?"

"I think you're nuts, but I'll swear it."

"Ditto."

"Same here."

"Ask anyone on the street, the common man, and you'll get a multitude of answers for my next question: Are we alone? Alone, you ask? Alone on this world or alone in the universe. For the latter, I can not answer, but for the former, this I can answer. We have existed since the dawn of time. We have walked along side the mortals of this world, in their passage through the centuries. We have battled from the beginning to win the ultimate prize. It is a fight of good and evil, light and dark, black and white, positive and negative. Call it what you will. The fact remains that we are here, now, and we are on your side."

"What in God's name are you talking about Ranger?"

"I was born Jacob Jeremiah Sheridan, though I have not used my middle name is a very long time. I was born in a small town outside of Austin, in what is now central Texas. That was in 1830. I am of a people that call ourselves Immortals. We have always been here."

"By the standards of my race, I'm young. I was a mere thirty-five when I met my first death in 1865. Connor is a bit older having been born in Scotland in the very early 1500's. Adam, well, I don't know his true age, but I do know that he's far older than any of us in this room. If you fail to believe our story this night, then you will lose access to the one resource that can bring this killer to justice. For you see, the killer is like us. He is an Immortal. The only justice an Immortal understands is meted out by the sword. It is the only way to be sure that he will never kill again."

The skies outside the Hudson Street building suddenly seemed to crackle with electrical energy as a storm of lightning flashed all around. The very air seemed to glow with the power of a very ancient Quickening. Then just as suddenly as the sky had lit up, it became peaceful once more.

All eyes in Connor MacLeod's loft shifted to stare at Adam Pierson standing near the window as he surreptitiously lowered his arm. "I am known to my close friends, not as Adam Pierson, but as Methos. As to my age, I was never certain until just recently. But to give you a clue, I witnessed the building of the Pyramids. For a thousand years, I was known by my Biblical title. You know which one. He who rides a Pale Horse and He who was given power to take life over a fourth of the world. The legends of the Four Horsemen are based on fact. For over a thousand years we ranged across this world, taking what we wanted and killing all who stood in our way. The Horseman has been unseated and He will never ride again, but I urge you to take what I know and use it. This man you seek, this student of the Kurgan. If he is anything like his Master, then he will not be stopped easily. It will take the combined skills of all in the room to bring him to Immortal justice."

Benson looked at Stabler and then at her Captain. All three were thinking the same thing. The quickest way to get to a phone to call for several men with funny white jackets. Three funny white jackets to be exact.

"If you believe yourselves to be Immortal or some strange form of reincarnations, then maybe we should be having this meeting at Bellevue?"

"Why is it that no one ever believes what we tell them, Connor? Why must we repeatedly put on a demonstration that will shock these mortals to their cores? But, as I am the youngest here, perhaps you would care to do the honors?"

Connor nodded and pulled a small handgun from an ornate box behind the couch on which he was seated. The pistol had a silencer screwed on to the end of the barrel. He took quick aim and pulled the trigger in a classic double tap. One round entered Jake's forehead, right between the eyes, while the second entered his chest, right above Jake's heart. The entire event happened so quickly, that none of the three police officers was able to pull their service pistols in time to prevent anything. Detective Benson rushed to where Ranger Sheridan had fallen and felt for a pulse but found none. Detective Stabler and Captain Cragen pulled their weapons. One of them held his gun on Connor while the other kept Adam in his sights. This situation had gone from merely strange to completely insane.

"What the hell did you do that for? You shot him twice! He's dead! And I thought he was your friend!"

"Take it easy Detective Benson. Give him a moment or two. Head wounds always take the longest to heal."

"Are you out of your mind, Nash? No one can recover from a point blank shot to the head with a forty-five!"

They argued back and forth for a few more seconds, but it was Elliot Stabler that noticed the arcing electricity first.

"What in the hell?"

At his utterance, Olivia Benson looked down at the man she had called a friend for the last week. Small arcs of electricity were dancing across his wounds. The entrance holes were closing up and it almost seemed as if the blood that had leaked out was being sucked back into the body. She had seen a lot of strange things as a police officer, but this was something altogether different. It seemed as if the world had stopped breathing, but it was her, actually. As Jake Sheridan took a breath, she realized she was inexplicably holding her own. His first words amused her for a reason she couldn't yet answer.

"Uhm, did I miss anything important? Captain? Detectives? Why are you holding your weapons on my friends?"

"He shot you! I saw it! You were dead! I don't understand?"

"As I stated a few moments ago, the three of us here are Immortals. Something as mundane as a bullet to the brain or the heart won't kill us."

"The head-hunter in '85?"

"He was one of us Captain Cragen. A vicious brute of a man known only as the Kurgan. He wanted the Prize. I made sure he didn't get it."

"Then the other headless bodies were all of Immortals? Is that how you die?"

"We'd rather that little bit of information were kept to yourselves. But yes. That is how we can be killed. Only an Immortal can take the life of another Immortal. Now that we've gotten this little bit of melodrama out of the way, perhaps you'd care to listen to our plan now?"

"I think I need a drink."

"Connor, pour us all a stiff drink, would you? Then, I think, coffee will be in order. I've a feeling this will be a long night."

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The next day dawned bright and clear, but the forecast was for dark, snow filled clouds by early afternoon, and at least a foot of it by midnight. Cragen had called in favors left and right, but by eighteen hundred that evening, the park was mostly empty. And quiet. Jacob sat on a park bench, watching the first snow flakes fall to the ground. The memories were particularly deep and violent, and they came at him hard and fast.

It was the scene around him that triggered this memory. In 1944, he'd made the landing at Normandy, then marched inland with the 2nd Ranger battalion to the forests of the Ardennes. The quietness of the forests, bathed in a heavy covering of snow; it brought back memories that Jacob would just as soon forget. He heard a crunching behind him, and was up from the bench seat in less than a second, with his sword drawn and at the ready a second later.

"You are early, Ranger. Are you so eager to meet your death?"

"By my watch I still have an hour. So, perhaps you would indulge my curiosity a bit?"

"I see nothing wrong with that request. Come, let us sit and talk. Soon enough it will be time for the hunt."

The two men walked over to a nearby table and sat down opposite one another. Jacob reached down into his pack and pulled a thermos and two metal cups, pouring out a coffee for each of them.

"So, your questions?"

"Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Jacob Sheridan. Born in Texas in 1830. I met my first death in 1865, at the hands of a bullet fired by some Union rifle. I have been here ever since."

"I am Victor Folter, formerly a Major in the SS. I was born in a small hamlet in what for a time was Eastern Germany in 1920. I joined the German military as soon as I was able, serving with a Panzer division until I caught the notice of the SS. I met my first death in 1942, at the hands of a group of French Resistance fighters. I was fortunate in that the other man killed along side me that day in '42 was the man you knew of as the Kurgan. He had already identified my potential, and he awaited my first awakening from death. He took me as a pupil and he taught me all that I needed to know about the Game and the Prize. Frankly, I look forward to winning the Prize. I can think of no better situation for one of our kind, than to rule over these insignificant insects that call themselves mortal men."

"I see. So, you're less than a century?"

"Yes. Do you now wish to know more about the _Kirche des Sammelns_?"

"Sure."

Jacob was wearing a wire. It was so small and unobtrusive that it felt like he wasn't, but he was. Adam Pierson had disappeared for some thirty minutes after their little show-and-tell the night before, and then had disappeared again early this morning only to show up at Nash Antiquities with a few boxes of equipment. To Jacob, the equipment appeared very cutting edge, almost military in nature. Pierson handed out three radio sets, so that the three Immortals would always be in contact with one another. At the moment, Jake's set was in his day pack by his feet. From one box, Adam had extracted the most beautiful sniper rifle Jake had ever seen. He promised Jake that he would be watching over him the entire time, but from a distance.

Now, as they heard the description of the premise of the 'church' broadcast over the encrypted radio link, Adam turned to a different source for information.

"Dad? Are you around?"

"I am here Methos. I have no plans of abandoning you anymore my son."

"That's good to know. I have a question."

"You wish to know if what this Folter claims is true?"

"Eavesdropping, Dad?"

"I make it my business to know what happens to you. I admit to listening in on the conversation, both now and last night. Must you children always use so violent a method for proving your Immortality?"

"It usually works the best. So, is what he claims true?"

"There is no truth to the Game or the Prize, however, there is some truth in the methodology. A Gathering can be triggered by the release of a very powerful Quickening. What his mentor, this Kurgan, attempted some years ago, I was able to dampen somewhat. Even then, some of the energies leaked through, and some went to their untimely deaths. You are fortunate that Connor MacLeod was able to stop that Kurgan. But yes, the release of a very powerful Quickening, or the release of several dozen small Quickenings, if done at all once, could potentially trigger a Gathering. It was something that we overlooked in our early experiments. I'm sorry that I couldn't be of more help, my son."

"Not your fault, Dad. Thanks for being here."

"Always, my son."

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_**Central Park**_

"And that is my story. Enlightening isn't it?"

"Well, except for one small detail."

"Oh? And what detail might that be?"

"You say the Kurgan claimed to have taken an Arab Immortal's head, the one who told him of this Gathering trigger?"

"Yes."

"And that the Arab in question had gotten this information from Methos, before taking Methos' head?"

"Again, yes."

"Considering that Methos was the first Immortal who found me, who trained me, well, I sincerely doubt that that old Arab was telling the truth."

"Perhaps it is more a question of the man who taught you telling a few lies?"

"Ok. I'll grant you that one. So, any rules for the hunt?"

"We will begin promptly at eight o'clock. To be fair and sporting, I will give you thirty minutes head start. Neither you nor I can leave the confines of the Park. If you leave the Park, this will violate the Hunt, and I will immediately order the execution of my followers. If I leave, you may have your officers around the Park immediately arrest me and I will turn over the location of my 'Church'. Next, I will not be using a traditional gun. This is a paint ball gun. If I manage to hit you ten times, center mass, then the hunt is over and I will give you one hour to rest before the Challenge. If you manage to elude me until sunrise, then you will also get one hour to rest for the Challenge."

"Do I get one of those guns too?"

"Mine is, you understand, fully automatic. Yours however, is not. It is a pump action shotgun type, with an 18 round magazine. Here are five spare magazines for you, just in case. Same rules apply to me as to you."

"Have you picked a spot for our duel?"

"Indeed. There is a fairly large reservoir in the Park. At the approximate center, I have a platform which some of my Acolytes are taking there as we speak. It is one hundred feet, by one hundred feet, with a low railing about the edge. I have instructed them to leave two rowboats, one on either side of the reservoir. Use one to get to the platform after sunrise. I will grant you your hour's rest after your arrival at the platform."

"Sounds fair. Hell of a lot more fair than some of the warfare I've seen."

"So you have a been a soldier, yes?"

"I have, Herr Folter."

"Were you, by chance, in that little fracas with the _Reich_?"

"Been there. Done that. The t-shirt I got is way too bloody to wear in public."

"Ach, such a sense of humor! I love it! Perhaps we met each other in combat across the fields of Germany and France, and did not know it?"

"I suppose there may have been opportunities. I was with the 2nd Ranger Battalion. Made landings in North Africa, then Normandy. Fought my way inward with the Rangers. The biggest battle I remember was at Ardennes."

"I too, was at Ardennes. By the that point in the war, the German military needed not so many interrogators as trained tank commanders. I had a small detachment of SS Panzers in that battle."

"Did you learn anything from that war, Herr Folter?"

"Yes. Warfare is not for the weak. It is something best left to those who are most able. It would have been better, I think, had only Immortals fought in that war and in all the wars since. In that way, I believe, the vast majority of the peoples we fought for would have been spared what we would see in any case. Our race is unique. A true _Master Race_ as decreed by Mother Nature herself. We are born to warfare, you and I. From the very beginning of our race, we have waged combat against one another."

"All for some mythical Prize. There are times that I would gladly trade my Immortality for the chance to live a normal life, perhaps raise a family. Mind you, I like my abilities, but just once, I would like to raise a son or daughter that is actually mine."

"It is a hard life we lead. Always fighting. Never having a chance to procreate. Yet somehow, there are more of us born today than there were even fifty years ago. It is a mystery I would have liked to explore eventually."

"You could always just give yourself up, Victor."

"I could no more give up, as it were, than you could turn to a life of crime, Ranger."

"I think you're right on that one."

"It is now eight o'clock and some seconds. Your thirty minutes begin now. I would wish you luck, but I'm not sure I'm that sporting."

"Same here. Good-bye, Herr Folter."

"_Guten tag_, Herr Sheridan."

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Outside Central Park, the Police had formed a strong perimeter. The citizens of New York had protested somewhat at their not being allowed use of the Park, and a few had called the local media, who were now there in force. All along the periphery of the Park, there were blinking red and blue lights, and men in uniform with guns keeping the public out.

When Methos and Connor had heard of the planned final destination of the Hunt, both had made their way there separately. Methos had found a nice building from which to conduct an over watch mission, while Connor put on a set of insulated Scuba gear to check out the platform and make sure there were no traps waiting for his friend.

Earlier that day, Jake had moved around the Park with a detailed topographical map, marking out locations, and examining said locations as possible temporary rest sites. Some years ago, he had learned of the hobby sport of geo-caching. Now, this extra knowledge of his went into action as he created six small caches. Into these he placed extra gear that could come in handy, along with dry socks and small warming packets. In each, he left a packet of strong coffee, two small bottles of water, and a packet of trioxane, with which to heat the water for his coffee.

It was cold outside, bitterly cold with a strong wind. He estimated the wind chill at just above zero. Thirty minutes. That was what he had to get to a secluded spot to change gear. He'd picked the spot earlier. He'd walked through most of the Park with Detective Benson, for whom he felt a strong attraction.

"So why are you doing this? Why not leave it to the NYPD?"

"He's an Immortal. He's our perp. In any other case, I'd treat him just like any other criminal, but he is one of my race. Justice may be blind, but Immortal justice is a whole other can of worms. How do you sentence someone to life in prison knowing that this particular type of sentence could mean a literal eternity behind bars? Or better yet, sentence an Immortal to death. For us, anything shy of the guillotine is not a death sentence. What happens when you electrocute an Immortal? Not a damn thing. Our heart stops for a minute or so, then we're right back to life. How does the mortal justice system account for that? No, Immortal justice might seem harsh to a mortal, but it is the only thing that will guarantee that this particular criminal will never harm another being ever again."

"You said last night that you were born in 1830."

"I was. My father, well, I know he wasn't really my father, but he told me once that he and my mother had found me on their doorstep during a particularly violent storm. There was no note or any sort of identification on me. He told me that he and his wife had prayed long and hard for God to grant them a child. Needless to say, they didn't turn me away."

"So, you were what, a foundling?"

"All Immortals are foundlings. We don't know where we come from, just that we exist."

"Ok. But since all of you start out as normal babies, then surely some of you would remember having children?"

"That's the thing, isn't it? I'm sure that most would think that, but the thing is, all of us are sterile. We can't have children of our own. In my short life, I've been married four times. I've raised a number of children that I adopted."

"Only four wives?"

"I outlived them all. It's the hardest thing we have to face in our eternal lives; outliving a loved one."

"Tell me about them?"

"Ok. The first I met after the Battle of Murfreesboro, in Tennessee. I was with the 14th Texas Cavalry under General Ector. Somehow or other I got separated from my unit. I'd taken a bunch of fragments in my back. The wounds weren't fatal and so I didn't die and my Immortality didn't come to the fore. For some reason or other, every Immortal I've ever met tells of a violent death that preceded their Immortality. So, I got separated and ended up far from the battle site. It was snowing pretty heavily, and I was pretty much just hanging on to my horse. I had blood in my eyes, and blood all down my back, but I wasn't dead.

"Marissa found me in the snow. She told me later that my horse had wandered up to her door, and that she'd seen the saddle and the blood, and followed the horse's prints up to where I was. She nursed me back to health, and I helped her where I could. It wasn't like we were married by a priest or something like that, but she had lived there with her father and brothers before they'd gone off to the war. They died at Chancellorsville. She had no one left."

"The Nightingale effect, eh? I mean, she nursed you back to health, and you fell in love with her."

"Didn't realize that had a name till now. But yeah, that's pretty much how it happened. When spring came, I left her. I went back to my unit. When the war ended, I went back there, but the house had burned to the ground, and there was a small grave; unmarked. I assumed that was her and that someone else had buried her. But it wasn't. I must have stood there for a few hours, making my peace with a God I didn't really believe in, when I heard someone behind me. It was Marissa.

"Some men had come, she'd told me, after I left that spring of '63. Union soldiers. They took everything she owned. They raped her, and left her for dead. Then they burned her home. She told me she got pregnant after the rape. She had a child, a daughter, that had died a few months before my return. She said she hoped I would return, and I did.

"I took her with me to Texas, and she and I made a nice home in what had been my adoptive parents home. And for a few years, I was at peace with the world."

"How did she die?"

"I'd gone in to Fort Worth to pick up Adam. He was coming in on the noon train from Chicago, just for a visit, or so he'd said. Marissa and I, we lived about three hours by horse away from the city. Indian raiders struck the homestead. Burned it and everything inside to the ground. Marissa included. I was inconsolable for quite some time. I'm just glad that Adam was there or I might have done something monumentally stupid. When he left, I joined the Rangers, and I've been with them ever since."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like."

Jake had taken his pack with him into a nearby bathroom to change. The last thing he wanted to do was change out in the open. It was too damned cold to do that! He was already wearing thermals so all he did was remove his jeans and his shirt and boots. Adam had, that morning, given him these clothes to wear. Jake had seen them in the news recently. The Army's new battle dress uniforms. These were subdued winter urban camouflage. He put on the pants and the shirt quickly, trying to retain as much heat as possible. The boots were next. Heavy duty, extreme weather boots, with an inflatable lining that would retain heat, and keep his feet comfortable as well. The web gear came next. A canteen to keep him hydrated. A holster for his Sheridan Special mounted on the side of his right thigh. A cold weather face mask to keep the biting wind from giving him frostbite. And finally, the encrypted link radio set that Adam had provided for him.

"Adam, you all set?"

"Got you covered Jake. Folter is still where he was, enjoying the coffee you left him in that thermos. I still think you should have poisoned that coffee."

"Nah. Wouldn't be sportsman like."

"You and your damned code of honor will be the death of me. Move out Jake. You've got eighteen minutes to make it to the first cache."

"On my way."

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Jake was on the northern side of the Park when Folter began to move out from the southern end. Jake had planted one of his caches near a ravine. This spot must attract a lot of lovers, he thought. Just now, all he could hear was the almost silent bubbling of the water as it passed over the rocks and fed into a pool. Pierson radioed the fact that Folter was carefully examining some spot or other on the south side and that even at a full out run, he was thirty minutes or so from him. So Jake took the time to heat up some hot chocolate and eat an energy bar.

"Jake. I'm back onshore and headed out of the Park to Adam. Platform is clean, no traps evident."

"Thanks, Connor. Go and get warm someplace."

"Laddie, tis nothing but a brisk Highland wind, like that which oft blew in over Loch Shiel."

"Whatever, Connor. After this, and you can hold me to it, I'll be buying the bar."

"That's a good lad."

"Jake. He's passing East 72nd and heading north to East 79th. You've got time yet."

"Thanks Adam."

Jake had picked a good spot for an ambush and this was where he was headed. South to the Ramble, near 79th street. At best, he'd be able to get off one or two shots, so he wanted to make them count as much as possible. He knew that his Quickening would warn Folter of his presence long before he got into range for a shot, so he'd have to be cautious about things.

He'd picked a spot atop a boulder, a mere fifteen feet above the central path. He pulled a Gillie suit from his pack and quickly pulled it into place over him. Now he looked more like a small pile of snow than a man with a gun.

There were a few trees in front of him, just enough trees to provide a little bit of cover. Folter was closer now. Less than one hundred-fifty feet.

"I know you are here, Ranger. I can sense you."

Folter walked closer to Jake, almost as if he were using the sensation of the Quickening to home in on Jake. There, less than one hundred feet. Jake let fly with the two rounds in the barrel. He'd loaded two rounds instead of one, cause he knew he wouldn't be able to get off two separate shots. One hit center mass, the other on Folter's thigh. It was just enough of a distraction. Folter was looking left and right and Jake used the opportunity to slip backwards along the boulder on which he had lain. As soon as he hit the ground behind it, he ran quickly into the denser part of the Ramble behind him and within a few minutes the Quickening had faded to just so much extra background noise. Behind him, he could hear Folter shout in anger.

"First blood to you, Ranger! You will not be so lucky a second time!"

Jake quickly made his way south across the rest of the Ramble and the small lake there and into a section that was called Wagner Cove on his map. He'd planted a pair of water bottles inside the water fountain and these he got out and drank down quickly before turning around and running north towards the military fortifications, where he'd hidden his next cache. After retrieving that cache, he'd moved on to Huddlestone Arch, where he'd take the chance to make something hot. Pierson told him that he had Folter in plain sight, running around in circles near the Obelisk. And he made a comment as to Jake's evasion skills.

"Where'd you learn to E&E like that, Jake?"

"Escape and Evade? At the beginning of WWII, I was with the 3rd Ranger Battalion at Cisterna."

"I heard about them. Wasn't the 1st and the 3rd captured at Cisterna?"

"They were, Connor. Six men managed to escape and get back to Allied lines. If I could evade whole companies of German soldiers trying to kill me, what do you think I can do to just one German soldier?"

"Just see to it that you do just that, Jake."

"Always, Adam."

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In a hotel in front of the Park, a different set of ears were monitoring the encrypted radio links.

"3rd Rangers? What ya think, Carter? Think we should recruit him?"

"Another Immortal, sir?"

"Hammond wants to put together a unit, made up of them. Duncan is supposed to be working on a list."

"But his most recent experience in uniform is what? World War II?"

"Let me see if Pierson knows anything else."

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Jake had heated up some water for another spot of hot chocolate. He'd rather have coffee, but he was saving that for morning. He'd need the caffeine then more so than now. Besides, the pasty energy bars went down so much easier with chocolate. Then he'd move on to his next ambush site. This one, he'd prepped earlier in the day, and it had a trip wire. He'd set one up along the Bridle Path just opposite the Reservoir. The wire ran along the road and was barely visible against the new layer of fresh powder that was still falling. It connected to a simple set of noisemakers that when pulled, a small charge went off and it made an eighty-five decibel bang. Hopefully it would get Folter to look the wrong way so Jake could put a few rounds into him.

He was laying on the ground now, under some brush by the side of the path, once again covered by his Ghillie suit. The range was much closer now. But Folter was still far away. Jake took the time to rig a second trip wire, this one with a different surprise to it. He'd removed the payload of a shotgun shell, leaving only one-tenth of the powder charge and the buffer wad in place. He stuffed it with three paintballs, and rigged the new shell to a mouse trap trigger.

He learned how to rig the mouse trap trigger back in 'Nam, when rigging such devices meant all the difference between life and death. Hopefully, while Folter was stumbling around shocked by the previous trip-wire alarm, he trip this second wire, and end up with at least one splotch of paint, center mass. Then, while he was looking away, Jake would pump two more rounds into him, and make his retreat.

"Jake, he's closing on your position fast. I make it about two hundred yards."

"Roger that Adam. Just finished up another little surprise for Folter."

"Should I ask?"

"Just a couple of trip wires."

"Oh Lord."

"I know you are very close, Ranger. Your Quickening shines to me, it calls to me to set it free!"

Folter took a step, then another and another. The fourth step caught the first trip wire and six very loud eighty-five decibel alarms went off within milliseconds of one another. Folter turned quickly at the sound, moving his foot through the second wire. He was rewarded with yet another loud bang, this one from the shotgun shell setting off its charge, and then the sudden feeling of multiple impacts along his chest. And before his ears could clear from the ringing they were still feeling, he took another pair of rounds to his back. He turned quickly, bringing his gun up to fire a spray on automatic, but he missed completely. As Jake ran away, he had enough time to put two more rounds into Folter, one hitting him on the arm, the other on the leg. As he ran away, he called out to Folter.

"That's six for me, and none for you Victor. I thought you were better than this!"

"Ranger! I will kill you! Slowly!"

Jake ran hard and fast, leaving an easy trail for Folter to follow that led right to the jogging trail around the Reservoir, before stopping and listening. Hearing no pursuit for the moment, he took his time and left a few false trails, then headed south to another cache. He stopped after a good thirty minute run to catch his breath and to dig up the cache, lightly buried beneath Rose Hill. He took the items there, and replenished the supplies he'd used. The mouse trap had worked so well, that he'd taken everything in this cache and put it into his pack and that included two more mouse traps.

"So, Jake. Any recent military experience?"

"Define recent, Adam."

"Say, in the last fifty years?"

"Well, there was that little skirmish that some folks call Viet Nam. I was with the 1st of the 7th at Ia Drang. More recent than that? Desert Storm. 'Nuff said."

"Why is it you like the military where so many of our kind do not?"

"More of a structured environment. Besides, I like this country. I'll do whatever I can to defend it. Only once have I taken up arms against it, and that was in 1861. But that was the only time."

"A lot of people were madder than hatters back then. I well know it. I avoided the fighting, but you know I did do my part."

"If it had been anyone else whose table I woke up on, I'm sure they'd a had a heart attack, and it would have been awhile before I could find a good teacher."

"Just so you don't forget your lessons in combat, Jake."

"Nah. That would be next to impossible, Adam."

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"1st of the 7th and Desert Storm? Ok. I think I like this guy."

"Those trip wires he rigged, I think he's more your type, sir."

"I think so too. He's got Special Forces written all over him, and I haven't even met him yet. Think you can access the personnel files and run a name search, Carter?"

"I'll get on it sir."

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Six hits center mass and Folter hadn't even managed to come close to hitting him yet. It was still a good three hours to sunrise. Jake wondered if he'd be able to hit him like that again. The next ambush site was near Turtle Pond in front of Belvedere Castle. Here' he rigged a couple of wires. One had noisemakers again on it, this time pulling them from three points around a central spot. The second one also had shot shells on it, and would pull from three directions to a central spot. Hopefully, with nine paint balls incoming, at least four would hit Folter. But if not, Jake would be in a tree above the spot, ready with at least two rounds for his opponent.

"Ranger! You are close! I can feel you! No more games Ranger! Let us end this! Let me take your head!"

It will be a cold day in Hell when I give up that easily, you rat bastard, thought Jake.

Folter was stumbling about now, the cold was obviously getting to him. It looked like he hadn't changed at all in the last few hours, while Jake had made sure he always had on dry socks. Cold and wet feet weren't good for battle. Folter stumbled into the trip wires pretty quickly, the noise makers going off a split second ahead of the shot shells. He looked about in distress, looking for the source of the noise as seven balls of paint hit front, back and sides of center mass. Jake didn't even need to fire off a round this time. Folter screamed.

"Ach! Ranger! You have won this part of the battle! Meet me in an hour at the platform on the Reservoir! You may be a better shot than I, but with a sword I am quite deadly! You will not be so lucky a second time!"

Jake waited until the sensation of the Quickening had faded before climbing down from the tree. He made his way back to the Castle where he grabbed the last cache. Then he proceeded down to the Reservoir and the rowboat there. He looked across the water and saw Folter rowing to the platform. Jake took his time, breaking out a metal cup and filling it with water. He opened a small wing stove and lit it, putting the cup on it to boil the water. He would sit and change for the coming fight. For this event, he didn't need all the camouflage so much as he needed something lighter. Rather than the baggy BDUs he chose gear that belonged more to his other hobby; mountain climbing. Fleece lined and tight fitting pants. A thermal long sleeve shirt, along with the same boots he was already wearing.

He sat in front of the low fire he'd made and pulled his sword from its scabbard. This was the Cavalry Saber issued to him during the War for Southern Independence. It needed a bit of cleaning and polishing and this he did with the kit that Connor had given to him a few years ago. He sat and drank his hot coffee and sharpened and polished his blade, waiting for the time to pass. When forty minutes had passed, he stomped out the fire, covering it liberally with snow, picked up his gear and put it into the rowboat, and rowed out to the platform on the water. He arrived with plenty of time to spare and found Folter pacing in the opposite corner.

Jake dropped the anchor and let the boat glide to a stop next to the platform. He got out onto the floating dock and let the boat behind drift off a bit. Then he kneeled on the wood on the dock, took his sword in his hands, and with the blade down, meditated for a few moments to clear his head.

"It is time, Ranger."

"Very well, Folter. Nice sword you got there. Is that a Swastika on the pommel?"

"It is. I took this from a pompous officer in the Luftwaffe, who had an unfortunate tryst with a woman who later admitted to being a part of the French Resistance."

"So, before I take your head, were you Waffen SS or Allgemeine SS?

"Allgemeine!"

"So you were a political officer, not a real soldier then?"

"I was a Panzer commander!"

"Yeah, so you said. Before you joined the SS. You were with those prancing apes in black uniforms. No better than insects. Your kind was responsible for most of the atrocities during the war. I'm sure the local office for the Wiesenthal Center will be most pleased with the news of your death."

"They were not atrocities! They were medical experiments designed to create a master race! Hitler knew about us! The Kurgan told him! Hitler wanted to create an Immortal army! The Kurgan and I would have been its commanding officers! But your allied forces destroyed that dream!"

"On second thought, I'm not sure that I want your head. I sure as hell don't want all that hate inside of me."

"If you do not take my head, then I will take yours. Now, fight!"

Folter struck first, and then repeatedly hard and fast. He was trying to overwhelm Jake's defenses with fast strikes that made his own sword ring from the strikes. It was not even the twilight before sunrise yet. There was the faintest of light coming from the east, and only the light that Jake and Folter had on them to illuminate the area. Jake parried Folter's blows, allowing him to believe he had a chance.

As their quick dance around each other continued, Victor made a move, which Jake blocked with little effort. Victor pulled back to a few feet away to re-examine this Immortal that challenged him to a fight. It was a challenge he was sure he could win. His sword was longer, and designed to inflict as much blunt force trauma as slashing and piercing trauma. It was a heavy sword, made for a hugely muscled man.

Jake was calling everything he had ever learned about the fine art of sword play into this fight. It was a challenge he could ill afford to lose. He very much wanted his head intact at the end of this match. The two of them continued their intricate dance, each scoring the occasional slash across the chest or upper arm of the other. Immortals may heal quickly, but it was not instantaneous. The floor, along with their bodies, was becoming slick with blood. It was unfortunate that the blood on the floor seemed to come primarily from Jake.

But luck was on Jake's side this day for this challenge. Victor slipped for an instant on the blood-slicked floor, but regained his balance after less than four heartbeats. It was, unfortunately for him, three heartbeats too long. Jake's sword flashed in for the kill, slashing across the chest first then pivoting a bit to slash across the throat. A heartbeat later, Jake reversed his swing and brought his sword up and across and cut cleanly through Victor's neck. By the fourth heartbeat, the final one, Victor's head was rolling across the floor.

On the shoreline, Olivia Benson flinched as she saw the head roll across the wooden deck. Though she had seen dead bodies before, this bold depiction of a beheading caused her stomach to turn. Then the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end, almost as if there were a source of high voltage electricity near by. She stared at Jake without seeing. Her mind was awash with the implication of the events. So she missed the first tendrils of the semi-transparent whitish mist that teemed with electrical energy that sparked out from the headless body of the late Victor Folter. She regained her senses in time to watch Jake fall to his knees, his sword still in his hand and held high above his head. Bolts of lightning and heavy mists reached out towards Jake and engulfed him, encircled him, and became a part of him. And just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

"How do you feel Jake?"

"Tired, Adam. I feel tired. And unsettled. I think I need something to soothe my stomach down. I feel light-headed."

"Probably from the blood loss. Yes, it won't kill us, but you have lost blood volume, a significant amount by what I can tell. I never would have thought to use my blood as a weapon, however."

"Nor would I, Adam, but it seemed to work out just fine, don't you think?"

"I think it has, Jake. Now, seeing as you are no longer occupied, what say we go somewhere for a nice round of whiskey?"

"You read my mind, Adam."

"God I hope not! I'd imagine that Victor Folter doesn't fancy spending the rest of eternity encased in the mind of a lawman. A shame he didn't tell us where his followers are."

"Ah, but he did. It's all up here now. An old building. Upper Manhattan."

Jake rowed across the small lake to the waiting police detectives of the NYPD. He gave them the address and then he, Connor and Adam adjourned to the same bar they'd been at the other night. The media were still trying to figure out why the Police had cordoned off the Park. The statement about a manhunt was believed for the moment. As the police cars raced off to the location of the victims, the media followed, and they witnessed the police helping thirty odd people out of the building, a few in handcuffs, but most wrapped in blankets. Odds were, they would need a lot of counseling to undo the lies that Victor Folter had washed into their brains.

The rest of the conversation was continued over a number of rounds of drinks at the nearest cop bar they could find. The televisions in the bar were all on to various news channels all telling the same thing; the Police Commissioner's daughter had been found alive and the kidnapper had been killed in a shootout with a Texas Ranger. There were pictures of Jake on one of the television sets in the bar, and the bartender sent over a round of drinks to his table on the house, as a courtesy to the Ranger.

"It's strange, Adam. I've taken a few heads in my time, but none have ever been as dark as this one. His thoughts are unsettling, but I think I understand him now. It wasn't his fault entirely. The Kurgan, that bastard demon spawn from Hell, he really fucked with young Victor's mind. Yes, it's true that he was at one point an officer in the Allgemeine SS, but that was decades ago. The times he lived in at first were fairly tumultuous, but I believe with a kinder teacher, he might have turned out alright. If it had been a not so kind teacher that found me, I daresay I'd still believe in slavery today. Hell, I'd probably still be fighting for the Confederacy, trying to restore it to its glory days. But the teacher that found me was you, Adam, and for that I will be ever grateful. You taught me one very important thing; to look at the world with an open mind."

"I did? I must have missed that part. But then again, I've had far more practice at being the cynic."

"Perhaps, but the role of the cynic suits you, Old One."

"Still want to go to that estate auction this week-end?"

"Sure! I have a few pieces I'd like to add to my collection, if I can find them."

The drinking continued as it had been, and the conversation turned from aspects of Immortals to life in the world as they knew it. Jake Sheridan was oblivious to the secret goings on in Adam's new life as a member of the SGC. Hell, Jake would be hard pressed to believe Adam in the role of a very modern military officer. The man he had met on a battlefield field hospital in 1865 was a far cry from the man seated across from him at this table in a cop bar. He imagined that this man in the bar was even further from the Horseman than anything he could imagine.

He looked over the patrons of the bar. Law enforcement for the vast majority of them, some active, some retired, and some just well wishers. He saw the members of the NYPD's Special Victims Unit and raised his glass in toast to them. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the way that Detective Olivia Benson stared at him. He knew that she had been privy to the Quickening, and he knew that she had felt an attraction to him prior to that final scene with Victor. Now he wondered if she were afraid of him.

It was a hard thing, to love a mortal, knowing full well that one such as himself would only have a few score years to live life with them. She was definitely an attractive woman. He wondered for a few fleeting moments, whether he should make the first move. He was staring towards the front of the bar when he noticed three men and a woman enter the bar. From the moment he laid eyes on them, his senses screamed 'Military!'. He wondered what they were doing in a cop bar.

The older of the four seemed to pause for a moment as he scanned the bar, looking for a friend perhaps? Then his eyes zeroed in on the table he and Adam were sitting at, and the four made their way to the table. The large black male with them seemed off to Jake, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. But he certainly was an imposing hulk of a man at well over six feet in height, and built like a linebacker.

"Pierson."

"O'Neill. You know, my leave's not supposed to be over yet."

"I know. But when you mentioned that estate sale, well, I thought maybe the team could use a little R&R."

"After two years in close company, I needed the R&R too, Jack. But must we all take it together? I would have assumed that two years of me in close contact with you four would have been enough."

"Two years to us. A matter of days to everyone else. But are you going to let us just stand here? Or are you going to introduce us to your friends?"

Truth be told, Jake had wondered why Adam hadn't introduced them yet at that point. Their conversation was a mystery to the others at the table. But again, Jake and Connor were both having a difficult time picturing Adam in the military.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Murray. I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine and a former student of mine, Jacob Sheridan, of the Texas Rangers, and Connor MacLeod. I believe you already know his cousin."

"Pleasure to meet y'all, I'm sure. Adam's mentioned nothing about y'all, but it seems he's made mention of some of his abilities?"

"Kinda hard to hide something like that, wouldn't you think Mr. Sheridan?"

"Call me Jake. Or if you must be formal, then Ranger Sheridan or Captain Sheridan will suffice."

"Texas Ranger, eh? Never thought I'd meet one of you guys. Are the legends of the Rangers true?"

"Some are. Some aren't. Most of the stories have a few grains of truth in them."

"How long have you been a Texas Ranger, Jacob Sheridan?"

"Seems like centuries to me, uhm, Murray?"

"Then you are also an Immortal?"

"Telling tales out of school, Adam?"

"I trust these people with my life Jake. You can do the same."

"I trust them only because I trust you, Adam. I extend that courtesy to them for that reason alone. But I do not like the idea of the military knowing what I am."

"Nor do I, Jake. But it was a necessary thing. And someday soon, perhaps I will explain it all to you."

"I'll take you up on that. So, Colonel? Hope you like whiskey, cause that's all we're drinking here."

"Sounds good to me. Ever been in the military, Sheridan?"

"A few times. Mounted cavalry for the CSA. Infantry in the Great War. Have been a member of the 2nd Ranger battalion on and off since the Second World War. On for the wars, off for the peace."

"Second Rangers, eh?"

"Yep. North Africa, Italy, and later, Normandy. Hell of a thing. War that is. A hell of a thing to inflict on anyone."

"I think I'm gonna like you Sheridan."

"Should I be worried about that Adam?"

"Nah."

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The next day dawned cold and clear. Temperatures hovered in the teens, but there was little wind to add a chill. Jacob had watched the tearful reunion between the Commissioner and his daughter the night before on the news. This morning, he had spoken briefly with the Commissioner before coming into the SVU unit to finish the paperwork and bid his good-byes to the men and women of that unit. He respected their abilities and he respected their jobs. It was a job he certainly didn't want. He saw enough men and women with criminal intent to leave the truly deranged killers to the experts.

"Ranger? All finished now?"

"Yep. The last of my paperwork has been emailed and faxed in to Ranger headquarters in Austin, with copies to my commander in Fort Worth. Quite frankly, Captain Cragen, after chasing this mutt down for ten years, then capturing him after only a couple weeks, well, I thought I'd take a few days off before heading back home."

"Well, if you need anything you know where to call."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Oh, by the way, I have something for you."

"A gift? You shouldn't have."

"Think of it as a something to remember a visit from a Ranger. I make a few dozen of these a year. They'll take any twelve gauge cartridge out on the market. It's a break-open loader, and the box there has a dozen spare clips in it. All you gotta do is fill up the clips and you'll be ready. It's a short barrel, so the effective range is maybe a dozen feet, but as a back-up weapon, it'll save your hide if it comes to that."

"What do you call this thing?"

"A Sheridan Special. If any of y'all ever get a hankerin' for anything from Texas, y'all know who to get a hold of. If you're ever down in Texas, just call me up. I'll make sure to play the right proper host for y'all."

"Thanks Sheridan. Have fun in the city and have a safe flight back to Texas."

"Thank you sir. Bye now."

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Jake had managed to get just outside of the building before Detective Benson caught up to him.

"Ranger!"

"Detective Benson?"

"Uhm, I was wondering if you might have dinner with me before you leave?"

"That would be a pleasure, ma'am."

"I'll call you tonight. You're still staying with Connor?"

"I'll be there through Monday next. He, Adam and myself will be attending an estate auction on Saturday. If you're not busy, maybe you could join us?"

"Maybe."

"Ok then. I'll talk to you tonight."

"Bye."

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_**That Evening**_

Jacob Sheridan, Immortal and Texas Ranger, felt like a young school boy out on his first date. It was not an unpleasant feeling and certainly not one he'd had in the better part of over a decade. His last love had been a supply sergeant for his Ranger battalion during the Desert Storm. And sadly, she had been one of the few deaths in that war. It was true that Jake was no stranger to romance. But it was also true that he feared it. Feared it because of the eventual loss of his partners, a loss that was unavoidable.

Olivia Benson was wondering how she could have feelings for this man sitting across from her in the Greek restaurant they were now in. He had ordered for both of them, something traditional he'd said. But as he did so, she took the time to study him now that their obvious attraction for one another had been revealed. She saw in his eyes a strength that was uncommon in the men she dated. A strength that spoke of countless fights and battles. She'd already seen the criss-cross of scars across his back and chest. She knew he'd been alive through some of the more tumultuous periods in US history. She wondered if she could love a man like Jake.

"Penny for your thoughts, Olivia?"

"My thoughts might be worth more than that, Jake."

"Don't carry that kind of cash with me, though. Will you take a credit card?"

She laughed. It was a carefree and easy laugh.

"Maybe you should just cut to the chase and buy something for me instead."

"Maybe. Somehow, I get the impression that flowers or chocolates just won't do, though."

"Oh well, flowers and candies are nice, but I'm a practical woman."

"Hmm. Ok then, how about a new gun?"

Now she laughed even harder. It was a good thing too.

"Depends on your choice of firearms, Jake."

"Well, there's nothing like the feel of a Desert Eagle in fifty AE in your hands. But I'm equally happy with a decent rifle or a good shotgun."

"You carry the Desert Eagle?"

"Yep."

"Good God, why? Wouldn't so powerful a round do too much damage to a perp?"

"Nah. Not if you place the shot just right. But I generally use the gun to stop a fleeing vehicle. You can imagine what a fifty caliber round can do to an engine block. For the perps, I use my shotgun. And before you ask, it's loaded with less-than-lethal rounds."

"So is what they say about the Rangers true then?"

"What do they say about the Rangers?"

"Only takes one Ranger to control a riot?"

"One riot, one Ranger. It's been our unofficial motto since the 1800's. Might have been true then, when the cities in Texas were still fairly small. But nowadays it takes more than one of us to control a riot. I, for one, would hate to walk into a riot all alone. I don't like those kinds of odds."

"But you can't be killed, right?"

"True. But how did you react when you saw me come back to life after Connor shot me? Now think of crazed rioters seeing that."

"Not a pretty picture."

"Enough shop talk. Here comes our meal. After we're done here, I thought maybe you'd be interested in some coffee? Perhaps a drink or two?"

"Coffee and a long chat with you will have to do. Too much paperwork at the office to do much drinking tonight."

"Ah, yes. The bane of every law enforcement officer everywhere. Paperwork. Perhaps we should toast to that, eh? Here's to short stacks of paperwork that can be completed in minutes!"

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The next few days passed in a whirlwind of sights and sounds. The last time Jake had been in New York City was at the end of the Second World War. Things had certainly changed in this great city, but it was still too much of a city for Jake. He knew his time there was coming to a close and he longed for the wide open spaces of his home state. This budding romance with Olivia was turning into a good thing, and he promised to write and to call every now and then. She promised the same as he boarded the flight for Texas.

Connor promised to make sure the items he'd bought at the estate auction would be sent out shortly and perhaps he'd go out for a visit as well. New York City in the winter could be a harsh thing indeed, and he longed to see Texas again. Methos had left the night before, on a small business jet that sported USAF markings on the wings. Jake wondered about that for a moment. The military was aware of their kind. He was unsure how he felt about that. But if the situation could be judged by Methos, then perhaps it was a good thing.

All he knew now, as the plane climbed to its cruising altitude was that the man he had chased across several states had finally met the only justice he would understand. At the point of a sword.

And then there was Olivia. He would make it a point to see her again, and as often as he possibly could. Such a beautiful thing, this thing called love.

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Disclaimers: Highlander is not mine. That wonderful series belongs to Rysher productions. Nor is Law and Order:SVU mine. That belongs to Wolf Films. Lastly, the characters found so often on the premier Stargate Team known as SG-1 are not mine. Though they appear only in a few paragraphs, they belong to Gekko Productions and to the SCI-FI channel.


	3. Potential

Potential 

_Part 1 of the Potentials Series_

_What happens when SG-1, with resident Immortals, meet up with the Battlestar Galactica? A war that could span the universe._

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_Excerpt From the Fifth Race_:

_ASGARD 1: We have studied your race closely._

_JACK O'NEILL: Ah. What did you learn? _

_ASGARD 2: That your species has great potential_…

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During the Cold War, the facility within Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, known as NORAD, or the NORth American Defense complex, was to have been the command and control center in the even of an attack on the United States by the Soviet Union or one of its allies. Afterward, while it still served as a command and control complex, its status as the leading center for defense would be challenged by a second complex, built beneath the first one. Known only to a very select few within the United States military, the facility known as the SGC, or StarGate Command, has now become the first line of defense against an enemy that could obliterate the planet and all of its inhabitants, yet not have to step foot on the planet.

The mandate of the SGC is two-fold. First, to make contact with other civilizations via the alien portal called the Stargate. Second, to obtain technologies and allies that can help Earth. In the history that the members of the SGC give to all recruits, the story goes like this: Thousands of years previously in the history of our planet, a race of parasitical creatures called the Goa'uld came to this world. What they saw in primitive man was a body that with their technology they could easily repair and achieve something akin to immortality. Furthermore, because man was still at a very primitive state, they could manipulate their primitive beliefs. The creatures known as the Goa'uld became the personification of the Gods worshipped by early man. The first of these parasites adopted the godly persona of Ra, the Egyptian Sun God, and it became the king of all the Gods. Their society enslaved primitive man and sent him via the Stargate to hundreds of thousands of worlds as slaves.

But a rebellion in the Earth's past put an end to their earthly empire with the Stargate buried and the few Goa'uld on the planet killed. With the passage of time and the fading of civilizations, the story of the Goa'uld and their influence on early man was lost. That is, until 1928 on the Giza plateau, when the Stargate was uncovered. Now, that very same 'Gate is housed within the SGC where teams of soldiers, scientists, and diplomats, go forth through the Stargate to re-establish contact with those tribes of humans that were taken from Earth, thousands of years prior. The premier team among the teams is called SG-1. These four souls are responsible for establishing contact with three of the most advanced races in the universe; the Nox, the Asgard, and the Tollan. They have also saved our planet on more than one occasion. In the process, they've managed to change the Earth's status from forgotten planet, to a planet designated for total annihilation.

One of the members of SG-1, Major Samantha Carter, doctor of Astrophysics, had chanced upon something that could, quite possibly, alter the balance of power in the Earth's favor. Ironically, it was not one of her discoveries, nor the analysis of any artifact retrieved by an SG team. It was something she read in one of her journals and later researched in detail on the net. The next day, she was in the office of General George Hammond, base commander for the SGC.

"General Hammond."

"Major Carter. Please have a seat. Now, what was so important that you had to see me so early?"

"Sir, last night, while catching up on some of my reading, I came across an article that, if proven, could quite possibly change the way we work around here."

"Where was this article published?"

"Among the many journals I subscribe to, but rarely have a chance to read is one called _Physics Letters_. These are announcements, primarily, of work in progress in various fields. One such letter caught my interest. The work is being conducted by one Doctor Marco Ramos. I checked his bio and it seems he is listed as IRR with the 366th Fighter Wing at Mountain Home Air Force base in Idaho, under the rank of Major. It also indicates that he has several degrees that could be of great value to us. Of particular interest is the theoretical work he is doing on force fields."

"Is his work strictly theory?"

"Unknown sir. When I tried to make inquiries I was told my clearance wasn't high enough?"

"That's unusual. Let me make a few calls, but I want you and Colonel O'Neill to be ready for a visit to Dr. Ramos."

"Of course sir."

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Some hours later, Major Carter and Colonel Jack O'Neill, commander of SG-1, found themselves entering the research complex in Idaho, where Dr. Ramos and his team were conducting their experiments.

"Tell me again, Carter, why this guy is so important?"

"Sir, if he can build one of the shields he's theorized, we could protect the planet against Goa'uld attack. If his theories hold true, the shields he's come up with would make Goa'uld shields look like paper by comparison."

"Sweet. Go figure though, another scientist for the SGC."

"Actually sir, his file is quite interesting. He joined the Air Force right out of high school. Went through basic where one of his drill instructors saw something unique and recommended him for OCS. He went to the Gulf War as a lieutenant and came back as a captain. Went to school on the Air Force plan and ended up with two double-major bachelor's degrees, another pair of master's, and a pair of doctorates. Commendations include Purple Heart with Cluster, Silver Star with Cluster, and Saudi Shield again with Cluster. He's listed under the rank of Major, currently listed as IRR with the 366th Fighter Wing."

"Saudi Shield?"

"Awarded by the Royal family of Saudi Arabia for saving the life of the Royal Heir. There are no details on how he earned that. His file also indicates fluency in over a dozen languages and tours of duty to various former Eastern Bloc embassies."

"Sounds like a nice guy, except for the scientist stuff."

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"Dr. Ramos. Excuse the interruption, but there are two Air Force officers here to see you."

"Send them in."

Ramos looked up from his work as the two officers were escorted in.

"Doctor Ramos? I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, this is Major Samantha Carter."

"Hello. The Pentagon sending you to check up on us?"

"We're not here on behalf of the Pentagon, however, we would like to ask you a few questions regarding your research."

"My research is classified, Colonel. I'm not a liberty to discuss the nature of the research."

"Perhaps, Dr. Ramos, you could discuss the nature of the paper in _Physics Letters_?"

"I _could_ discuss that one, yes."

"Doctor Ramos. There is a call for you."

"Did you tell the caller I am in conference?"

"I did sir. Sir, it's the President."

"I see. I'll take the call of course."

O'Neill and Carter stood by as Ramos took the call, listening in on this end of the conversation while trying hard to look disinterested.

"Good morning, Mr. President. Yes. They are in my office at the moment. Yes, I see. Yes, of course I will brief them fully. Yes sir. Good day sir."

"Well, you two come highly recommended. I've been ordered to give you full access to all of my research. So, we'll start here. This box on my desk is actually a generator, with a potential power output of fifteen pentawatts."

"Penta what's?"

"Penta-watt. Think of the number 15 followed by eighteen zeros."

"Big number. But in such a small container?"

"That small container is the power source for my shield technology."

"Then your theory is practical?"

"More than practical Major. My staff and I have built several versions of that shield, along with a few other little 'toys' that the folks at the Pentagon will just love."

"Like what?"

"Like compressing these shields down to a size where they can be loaded onto an Abrams or a Bradley. Heck, we've even begun testing one that will fit onto a Hum-Vee. Or maybe like our rail guns."

"The Navy is researching those, I believe."

"They are Major. And currently, they have them down to a size where they can mount them on a battleship. We've taken that a step further and made them man portable. There are two problems we've encountered so far, though one has a decent workaround. The first problem is that of power. While we can make a generator small enough and light weight enough to fit on web gear, we're having a problem with the capacitors holding a charge beyond fifteen shots. The work around we've come up with is to include the capacitors with the magazine. So when you change out the magazine, you're also quick charging the capacitors. The other problem we have is that only projectiles made of titanium can survive being shot through the barrel; anything else will melt due to air friction after leaving the barrel."

"How fast do the projectiles travel?"

"At full charge, the projectiles leave the gun at Mach 3. But as the capacitors lose their charge, the speed drops. By the time you've gone through a full magazine, projectile speed has fallen to just under Mach 1. Maximum range on a projectile is out to around five miles."

"Impressive! But you mentioned a second problem?"

"Well, unfortunately the charge on the capacitors doesn't last beyond fifteen rounds, which is why we've had to build capacitors into the magazines. While you can reload a magazine in the field, it unfortunately takes six to eight hours for the capacitors to recharge. What this gun means is that an infantryman can now, with one shot, take out a tank, and when used in conjunction with the new shields, our troops can decisively deal with any enemy, any where, and any time."

"Sweet. Carter, I think you're right. He'll fit in perfectly."

"Yes sir, I agree with that."

"Fit in? Excuse me? Fit in where?"

"This letter will explain in detail."

"What! What are you talking about!"

"Read the letter, Major."

"_To Major Marco Ramos, IRR, 366th Fighter Wing. You are hereby ordered re-activated to duty under direction from the President of the United States. You are to report as soon as possible to SG Command, Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado. Report your arrival to Major General Hammond, base CO. Provisions will be made to move your entire staff and all of your experiments, pending successful clearance of your personnel."_

"What the hell is SG Command? Look, Colonel, I did my time in the Air Farce. I'm done."

"Maybe, but when the President himself orders you back to active duty, can you honestly say no?"

"_Puta madre_! I guess not. Tell me this, if my research was not what you expected, would you still have given me that letter?"

"Even if you had not built anything, even if you were only at the theory stage, we would still want you and yes, I still would have given you the letter. Come along Major Ramos, you'll love '_Deep Space Radar Telemetry_' at the Mountain."

"Deep space radar telemetry? That's what this is all about? Are you out of your mind! My research has nothing to offer those fields! Why the hell do you need my research there?"

"That's _classified_, doctor."

"Touché, colonel."

----------------------------------------

A week later, Major Marco Ramos, resplendent in his dress uniform, reported for duty in the office of Major General George S. Hammond.

"Sir! Major Marco Ramos, reporting for duty, sir!"

"At ease, Major Ramos. Please, have a seat son. You'll find out soon enough that we're not big on protocol here, unless there's a VIP in the mountain. For the time being, until your clearance comes through for your entire staff, you'll be restricted to level twenty-three and above. But first, I want your explanation as to how a Russian astrophysicist came to be on your research team?"

"Simple really. She defected from Russia about eight years ago. The NID came across her bio and felt she might be useful to my research. I think, however, that she was placed there to watch over my work. Nothing that I can prove, just a gut feeling, sir."

"I'll take that under advisement. See to your staff then. I'll have someone brief you fully after their clearances come through."

Shortly after the powers that be had obtained those clearances, the team known as SG-1, the flagship team of Stargate Command, went out to show off the project called X-303. But for Dr. Ramos, he was already familiar with the 303, as his involvement with that project began as the Asgard took the X-303 under tow to their home world. He and his staff had finally been fully briefed in on the full mission of the SGC. They took the news with the grace born of years of pressure that only researchers can understand.

With access to the full set of plans for the space cruiser, Dr. Ramos took his team aside and broke them into several small groups in order to tackle a number of problems at once. One team would work on integrating the shield technology into the 303. Another would try to integrate the rail guns into the ship.

The vessel he imagined would have redundant sets of shields and shield generators along the hull. While most would probably place the stronger shields on the outer perimeter gradually drawing down to a final defense weaker shield, Ramos did the reverse. He hoped that it would entice any enemy into believing the 303 was weaker than it looked. He would, however, still build a shield for final defense, the last ditch effort to save a ship whose other defense and offence systems had suffered total failure. This final shield would be stronger by more than three hundred percent than the strongest normal operational field used by the 303. It would be a last line of defense that would call into play all of the power output of the ship, such that the only remaining power available would be for life support and gravitational controls.

The second team was busily designing rail gun turrets for point defense and a several larger rail guns for the main guns establishments. Additionally, by coupling his generator to the plasma cannons salvaged from a number of Goa'uld Death Gliders, they were able to increase the power output and thus the destructive beam output of the weapons. These refurbished guns were placed in turrets that had 360 degree rotational movement and 180 degree lateral movement. A total of five turrets were added to the design specs of the 303 in addition to the thirty rail gun turrets that had already been added. Two of the larger gun turrets were placed on the 'bottom' of the hull, while the remaining three were placed on 'top'.

A third team was looking over the plans for the X-302 space superiority fighter and had found a few methods for improving the power and speed while reducing the size. It was still a two man fighter, but it now sported one fifty gigawatt shield that projected a distance of five centimeters from the exterior of the hull, and a second fifty gigawatt shield that encased the cockpit area of the fighter. The second shield would be activated whenever the ship was powered up and only so long as there were at least one pilot in the ship. It would stay activated until the pilots deactivated it from within. In the event that a crew had to eject, it would protect the cockpit module against enemy fire.

For the fighter, the standard Goa'uld plasma guns were left in place, but with augmented power. The design team added a single double-barreled rail gun under the main fuselage with the same pivot capabilities as the cruiser-based rail guns. It had been a busy month for the design team. But it had also been a busy month for the SGC. The X-303 was back on Earth in its underground hangar at Area 51. It was at this point that General Hammond gave the go ahead to begin the modifications to the 303 and the two prototypes of the 302 fighters that had been completed.

Ramos pulled his team back together and then split them up again into two groups, one to work on the modifications to the 303, and the other to work on the 302s. Because there were only a single pair of prototype 302 fighters, those would be used as test beds for the new shields and weapons systems. The new breed of fighter craft would begin construction within the month, and would be housed aboard the 303. Inside the cruiser, Marco's teams were busily pouring over the ship and her systems. They were joined by the best engineers that the Air Force and the US Government could afford. Their timeline was short. The SGC wanted the modifications done to their first space cruiser within six months. As an added worry, they also wanted the fighters when the 303 went on-line at the end of those six months.

----------------------------------------

"Major Ramos? Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course, Major Carter. Shall we go topside?"

"After you."

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Carter?"

"We have a leak. Information about your modifications found there way into the hands of a certain Senator that has oversight for the SGC. You printed out three copies of your modification plans, correct?"

"That is correct. Each one had a final paragraph that was worded slightly differently, as per regulation."

"Good. Then we can trace the leak to a specific person. May I see the copies?"

"Of course."

Samantha Carter reviewed the three copies and quickly found the paragraph in question. Because the wording was so alluring, it made the reader want to quote it verbatim. It also made it easy to track the source of the leak. It was a method that had been forced upon him by the NID. The leak led directly to the Russian defector that Marco Ramos had long suspected.

"Marco, the leak is Dr. Irina Bugayev. Her copy is the one the Senator saw and quoted from. Unfortunately he's using the information against us. He has apparently arranged for the information to be leaked to a trio of foreign governments. The French, the British, and the Chinese are all demanding information or threatening to go public with what little information they already possess. The President has decided to bring their ambassadors into the loop and to brief them in the hopes they can convince their governments to remain quiet about the program. We at the SGC believe that this is just another ploy for the good Senator to take control of the program."

"I see. Maybe then we should arrange a leak of our own. Would you do me a favor and play along with me for a little while? I'm going to accidentally mention a few choice tidbits to Irina. False tidbits, but she doesn't need to know that."

"Ok. Give her enough information that she'll contact the Senator and then we use that to hang her."

"

You got it."

----------------------------------------

"Irina? Would you join me for a few moments?"

"Of course Marco."

"I see that the modifications are progressing according to plan."

"They are. The new shield generators should be on-line and ready by the end of the week. The test modules overloaded, unfortunately, so we had to rebuild the generators from scratch."

"That was unfortunate. Did you discover why?"

"The coolant system failed and the generator core over heated."

"I see. Well, the reason I asked you to join me is that Major Carter here has just given me a heads up on a new technology one of the SG teams recovered from planet P3X788. I think with a little work, we can integrate the device into the weapons of the cruiser and possibly build a smaller version for the fighters. The device has some interesting potential applications for, among other things, crowd control. The device releases an electrical pulse that can render any person or persons within five square miles of terrain completely unconscious for up to three hours. The potential as a ground control weapon against the Goa'uld is incredible! But I can see applications of this technology in riot control as well. Imagine! Being able to fire one shot and knock several hundred or perhaps several thousand people unconscious! Furthermore, a second shot that lands within one half kilometer of the epicenter of the first shot will vaporize those unconscious bodies. For warfare, that is an effective tool, don't you think?"

Irina couldn't think. The possibility that such a weapon could be turned against her former homeland made her decision quickly. She would break protocol and send along this report immediately instead of waiting for the bi-monthly dead drop. The sheer nerve of this man and these people! To think that she worked alongside them made her sick. She had purposely contaminated the coolant so that the system would fail. She was sure that he would never learn that. As smart as Marco thought he was, he was an idiot compared to her genius.

"I think it will make an excellent addition to the cruiser, Marco! When can we see the device so we can begin adapting it to the cruiser?"

"The device in question is being examined at the SGC, then will be moved to the secure labs at Area 51. We should get it about two weeks from now."

"Good. I will expect it then. But until then, I still have much work to do."

"Ok. I'll let you get back to it. Oh, one more thing, give your staff a heads up. I'll be announcing a three day liberty pass at the daily wrap-up."

"I'm sure they'll be grateful!"

Irina made her decision quickly. That fool Marco had even given her three days to pass along this new information and not have to worry about the extreme security at Area 51. She had no idea that the information Marco had given her was anything other than factual.

Marco had pulled his other two section chiefs aside and briefed them in on the plan. Then he asked them to go over everything Irina had been working on, including the coolant systems. With as many filters as there were on those systems, the idea of a contaminant entering the system seemed remote. There were too many critical systems that she had access to, thanks to the recommendations of his contact at the NID. A contact he would be sure never to use again.

----------------------------------------

A week later, Marco had called his staff together for a briefing. After the staff members took their seats and the door to the conference room had been closed, two teams of SFs had moved in to secure the room. They were awaiting a go command from Colonel O'Neill who was sitting in on the briefing.

"Well people, let's get this briefing underway. Mitch, fill us in on progress with the fighters."

"Sure thing, Marco. The two X-302s that we're using as prototypes and test beds for new miniaturization trials have been fully modified. The result is a fighter that is unfortunately no longer air-worthy nor space-worthy. We're starting work on a new prototype model, the X-302A using the nano-assemblers modified by Marco. As soon as we get to a critical mass on the assemblers, we estimate prototype completion inside of three days. Our projections show that to reduce the production time, we'll need to implement the assemblers in critical mass units of multiples of three. Each group of three will reduce construction time by one day, so nine CMUs will construct one plane per day, eighteen units will give us two planes, and so on. I've got a three-man action team working on making the assemblers more productive, but that's going to take a bit of time and luck."

"Thanks Mitch. Phil, you're next."

"Right. Ok, we've got the rail guns on-line and operational. We've also solved the power problem on the rail guns in the turrets. Instead of constantly charging the capacitors for the guns, we've changed the projectile by including a small capacitor. This will also solve our charge problem on the man portable rail gun, and give the projectile a constant speed of Mach 3.5. We're having to make minor modifications to the power system to handle the larger power requirements for the pulse cannons. We're also working on modifying a number of different types of missiles trying to find a decent compromise between speed, range, and payload capacity."

"Sounds like you have things well in hand. Irina?"

Marco had a week's worth of surveillance on Dr. Bugayev, including taped phone conversations. She had leaked information on their most secret projects to a Senator and to the NID. Because of this, Senator Kinsey had almost succeeded in moving command of the SGC from the Pentagon to the NID. The only reason the Senator failed in his move is that the Asgard intervened on behalf of the SGC. A month after his ill-fated attempt, the good senator was listed among the dead after a crazed Japanese pilot slammed his 747 into the Capitol building, killing not only him but a significant portion of the US government.

"Thank you Marco. We are still having problems with the coolant system. We are trying to identify the source of contamination."

"I'm sure you are. Tell me Irina, how was your trip to DC?"

"I'm sorry? Marco? What are you talking about?"

"Come off it, Irina. You do realize that you, hell all of us, are working for an extremely top secret organization. Surely you must be aware that all of my staff, myself included, are under constant surveillance? Yet you flaunted that when you contacted the NID and passed along classified information. I went over those coolant systems myself while you were out. Mitch and Phil helped me out. We sealed the system ourselves and placed markers on the system. Those markers were gone today after you 'checked' the system before the power-up test. Why have you been sabotaging the project? You must realize that the project will eventually defend this planet against the Goa'uld! Why? Tell me why, Irina?"

"Stupid American. You really think I would let you, the United States, keep all this technology to yourselves? I am Russian, Doctor Ramos. What I did was for the betterment of the treaty between my country and yours. Foolish American!"

"First off, Doctor Bugayev, I'm American because I've been here long enough to be considered one. It is my adopted country. I am Spanish. And you Doctor, you are hereby 'retired'. Colonel O'Neill, if you will, please remove this traitor from my sight?"

"Ya sure ya betcha. It'll truly be a pleasure. Guards?"

----------------------------------------

After the incident with Dr. Bugayev, the remaining work with the X-303, now officially christened the USAF _Prometheus_, was completed fairly quickly. Within six months, the ship was in orbit and ready for a shakedown cruise. Three fighter squadrons and one shuttle squadron were aboard and they were only waiting for the final shuttle to come up from Earth.

Marco went into the small gymnasium aboard the _Prometheus_ to practice. It had been some time since he had been able to practice with his sword. Skills like his were far too rare. In nearly twenty-six hundred years of life, his ability with the sword had only increased. But without practice, those skills became rusty. He had held one top secret position or another with various governments of the world since his first life, a little more than two thousand six hundred years earlier. In all that time, he had managed to stay on holy ground and had only taken heads on rare occasions, only when he was unable to talk his challenger out of the challenge. He had met a few Immortals in his life that had not challenged him outright. Immortals older than he by far. Darius had been one of them. He had met him on the battle field. On opposite sides. But the two had come away from the battle alive. And friends.

Marco had been saddened to hear that Darius' life had been extinguished by a mere mortal. Another Immortal, Ramirez, had been his first teacher in Spain. He had mourned when he heard of the old Egyptian's death at the hand of the Kurgan. He had cheered privately and raised a toast to Ramirez's student, the elder MacLeod when he had taken the Kurgan's head. Of the older ones, Ramirez and Darius had both been friends whom he could trust implicitly. And now they were dead. The Game was not real. He had long believed that. But then again, he had not actively participated in centuries.

Now, after nine months in the stale underground environment that was Area 51, he was in space. A place he never imagined he would go. His 'parents' always knew he would go far, though into space probably was not even a consideration. He had started his kata, a simple set of practice movements to limber up before practicing with this sword, a shamsir blade he had commissioned over twenty-two centuries previously.

As he finished his kata, he became aware of an audience. That would be the ship's commander, he thought, Commander Victor Hawkes, formerly of the US Navy.

"Commander Hawkes, I presume."

"Major Ramos. Interesting kata. I am familiar with parts of it, but not all of it."

"It's an ancient form, taught to me by first teacher. He claimed it was Egyptian in origin, though I do not know how true that is. What I do know is that he taught it to me and I have been doing this every day since then."

"That is good. To stick with something that seems to calm you. Tell me, is the sword just for show or do you actually know how to use it?"

"You know, that sounds like a challenge to me. Care for some quick sparring?"

"Sure."

They had been sparring for about ten minutes. The commander was no match for Marco, but he took it easy on him, adjusting his fighting style to match that of the Commander. Marco's use of the shamsir blade gave him a bit of an edge in reach versus Victor's naval saber sword. From what Marco could see, it seemed perfectly balanced. He would liked to have met the master weapon-smith that created that particular blade.

The interruption came to both at the same instance but was two different interruptions nonetheless. For Marco, it was the sense of an approaching Immortal, or rather several approaching Immortals. For Victor, it was a call from the bridge that the final shuttle was coming aboard, with SG units 1, 3, and 9, and the two newest units, the shock troopers that had recently been recruited, SG units 19 and 20. It was supposed to be a shakedown cruise for the _Prometheus_ and for the fighter and shuttle pilots aboard. They would be conducting battle drills and fighter scramble drills along with combat landings on an Earth-like world that to their knowledge had no Stargate.

Aboard the shuttle, just prior to landing, Jack pulled Methos aside. He had some nagging questions about something Marco Ramos had said some months previously. He had done an in depth check of Marco Ramos and found nothing out of the ordinary.

"Pierson. Something that Dr. Ramos said a few months ago has been bothering me. He said something like what you said when we recruited you, that he had been in the US long enough to be considered a citizen."

"Really? And your background check?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. No siblings, but his parents are quite alive, though quite old. Maybe you could check with your own sources?"

"I'll ask Joe about him. Uhm, Jack?"

"Pierson?"

"Is he on the _Prometheus_?"

"He and his design team have been aboard for some time, running checks on the systems, why?"

"He's one of us. I can feel him. He's not a young one. Not as old as me, but not as young as MacLeod."

"No challenges, Pierson. If he's as old as you think he is then he's survived quite a bit. And he is responsible for designing the shields and weapons on this ship along with the fighter detachment."

"No challenges, Jack. Just a chat."

Marco, in the meantime, had gone back to his quarters and stowed his gear, then took a quick shower before putting on a ship suit. The ship suit. A one piece jumpsuit that one of his team had devised. It had a small piping system woven into the layers of the suit that could alternatively keep the wearer cool or warm, depending on the ambient temperature outside the suit. The outer layer was a Kevlar and carbon fiber mix with an extremely tight weave that could stop rounds from the standard firearm in use by the SGC. The outer layer also had a shield generating matrix woven into it that would stop a blast from a staff weapon. They were working on modifications to the suit so that it would also stop a blast from a zat gun, but they weren't quite there yet. Now he was walking back to his lab where he could continue his work. He was also trying to calm himself so as to reduce the 'signature' of his Quickening. A few moments later and his Quickening now appeared almost quiet.

That came as a surprise to Pierson, several decks down in the hangar bay. One second the presence was there, the next it was almost imperceptible. The older Immortals with him, the members of the strike team, had also felt the lessening of the presence. They all looked at one another, expectantly, as only an old Immortal could accomplish such a lessening. Pierson resolved to solve the problem. He and Jack went out in search of the mysterious Dr. Ramos. They found him in his lab, examining the results from the most recent engine tests.

"Ramos."

Marco turned around. Though his own presence was diminished, he could feel this other one's quite clearly. He turned and saw to whom it belonged.

"You. I know you. You were a friend to Darius."

"How do you know Darius? I do not know you."

"You would not. Darius once showed me a picture of you. I can feel your Quickening old one."

"You have me at a disadvantage, for I can barely feel yours."

Marco relaxed himself and allowed the full force of his Quickening to shine through.

"Better?"

"You are not a young one. Not recently in any case."

"No. I'll celebrate 2598 in a few months."

"You knew Darius?"

"I met him, for the first time, on a battle field in Italy, a long time ago. We fought each other and came away alive. We became friends. I last saw him a few days before he died."

"Who was your teacher?"

"Ramirez was my teacher. I also mourn his loss."

"Come with me. I'll introduce you to the Immortal Strike teams. Maybe we'll find another that knows you."

"Perhaps."

SG-3 and 9 had already been shown to their quarters and were stowing their gear, so it was only the strike teams in the mess hall when Pierson, Jack, and Marco walked into the room.

"_Madre de Dios_! Ramirez? I thought you were dead!"

"Marco! It's been what? Four centuries since we last saw one another?"

"About that. It was right before you went to Scotland. Where you died."

"Ah, but my head is still quite attached to my neck. News of my death was quite premature."

"So it would seem."

"You are looking well."

"As are you old friend."

Marco was introduced to the others and then after some short chit chat, went to the bridge to check in on progress for the launch. He arrived just as clearance was given to launch.

"Dr. Ramos? Are all systems reporting ready?"

"Shields and weapons are on-line and fully functional."

"Engines on-line and ready, sir."

"Navigation ready."

"Communications ready."

"Science station ready sir. All scanners fully powered and operational."

"Communications, report _Prometheus_ ready in all respects. All stations, prepare for hyper launch."

It felt like a small jolt, like something you would feel when your car ran over a speed bump. Such was the sensation of the ship entering hyper launch. Their destination was some four thousand light years away, in an uninhabited system the Tok'ra claimed was quiet. In that system, the _Prometheus_ would be put through its paces, and the strike teams would practice combat assaults. The trip was estimated to take little more than four hours. They were nearing their exit point, but not quite there, when the science officer reported a contact.

"Sir, something on long range scanners. Numerous contacts. Looks like a convoy of ships. Scanners are having a hard time picking out all the individual ships, but it looks like they number at least four hundred."

"All stations. Battle alert! Prepare to drop from hyperspace!"

An alert tone was sounding as pilots rushed to the hangar bay to man their planes. There were three flights of six fighters each, though only one flight could be launched or recovered at any given moment. Nonetheless, all fighters were manned and ready for launch as the _Prometheus_ dropped from hyperspace.

----------------------------------------

On the lead vessel of the convoy, an officer was the first to see the ship suddenly appear on their scanners.

"Commander! An unknown vessel has appeared on our scanners! The scanners are unable to penetrate their shields. They are slowly closing to a distance of ninety microns."

"Sound the alert! Make Blue and Red squadrons ready to launch."

----------------------------------------

"Commander Hawkes, they are attempting to scan us, but their scanner beams are being reflected by the shields. She's a big ship. Uh-oh. She's launching fighters!"

"Launch all fighters! But tell them to take up positions around the _Prometheus_. Do not engage!"

"Aye sir!"

"Science? Tell me about that ship."

"Sir. Looks like one very heavily armed and armored carrier. Hundreds of weapons emplacements. One second sir. That can't be right. Sir, scanners are reporting the crews on those ships to be human."

"Human? Are you sure?"

"Positive sir. Human. All of them. Computer estimates about forty-five thousand souls aboard approximately four hundred ships."

"Communications, open a channel."

"Channel open sir."

----------------------------------------

"Commander, we're getting a comms signal from the alien vessel."

"Pipe it up here, Omega."

"_Attention unidentified alien vessel. This is the United States Air Force vessel _Prometheus_. We mean you no harm. We are merely transiting this space. We will not attack without provocation. Please identify yourselves_."

"_Prometheus_. I am Commander Apollo of the Battlestar _Galactica_. We too are also simply transiting this space. We seek information. Perhaps you could be of assistance?"

"_What sort of information do you seek_?"

"The location of a lost colony of ours. A colony called Earth."

"_I see. One moment please_."

----------------------------------------

"Oh boy. He did say Earth didn't he?"

"Sure sounded like that to me."

The _Prometheus_' PA system bellowed with Marco's voice. "_SG-1 and 9 report to the bridge on the double_!"

"Marco? What do you think?"

"Well, they're human. But why would they think we were a lost colony of theirs?"

"Hell if I know. Everything I know of human history says we evolved there. The Goa'uld took thousands of our ancestors to other worlds, so they may indeed be from one of those colonies. But I just don't know."

"Vic?"

"Jack. Good. There's a ship out there. They claim they're looking for a lost colony world."

"Yeah? What world would that be?"

"They claim Earth is the lost world."

"Oh for crying out loud!"

"You said it brother."

"Weps, drop our shields. Let them get a good look at us. Keep weapons hot and ready though."

"Aye sir."

----------------------------------------

"Commander, they've lowered their shields. Scanners now show the crew to be…By the Lords! They're human!"

"Verify that!"

"Verified sir."

"What do you think Athena? Descendants of the thirteenth tribe?"

"Possibly. We haven't seen anything to contra-indicate that. There are no planets in range that could support a star-faring civilization, however."

"Galactica_? We have the information you seek. We'd like permission to launch a shuttle with a diplomatic contact team aboard to share this information with you._"

"That is acceptable _Prometheus_."

"_The shuttle will be escorted by one flight of fighters, and said fighters will fly cover for your ship while the shuttle is aboard._"

"Understandable precaution, _Prometheus_. We await your arrival."

----------------------------------------

"Diplomacy is not my specialty, Jack, but I'd kill to go on the shuttle with you."

"I understand, Vic, but I need you here to cover our six."

"Ok. SG-1, gear up."

"Colonel, I'd like to go along."

"Ok. Pierson, help him gear up."

"This way Marco."

"Sam, tell the strike teams to stand by, just in case."

"Ok. I'll meet you at the shuttle."

Shuttle Alpha left the _Prometheus_ and was joined by Raptor squadron for the short trip to the _Galactica_. As the shuttle entered the landing bay, two fighters came in with it while the remaining fighters peeled off and assumed a CAP formation over the _Galactica_. In the enormous hangar bay, the shuttle settled to the deck on its anti-grav impellers. It didn't land per se, but just hovered slightly above the deck. The two fighters also 'landed' alongside. Their cockpits came up and two pilots came down from each plane. One from each crew took up guard positions by the shuttle, while the remaining two stayed by their fighters. SG-1 deplaned. Daniel thought it best to leave their machine rifles on board the shuttle, but relented when it came to the zat guns in their leg holsters, especially when looking out the window to see these Galacticans with very large pistols in their holsters.

Captain Pierson came out first along with Major Ramos who was followed by Teal'c. Pierson moved to the left and Ramos to the right, taking up guard positions. Jack came out next, followed by Daniel Jackson and Major Carter. Daniel came up to a position to the right of Jack while Sam Carter went out to the other side. Both Pierson and Ramos had their swords with them, hidden on their person. Daniel spoke first.

"Hello. My name is Doctor Daniel Jackson. This is Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, Major Ramos, Captain Pierson and Teal'c."

"On behalf of my people I greet you. I am Commander Apollo. This is President Tigh, and Colonel Athena. Welcome to the _Galactica_! Forgive my anxiousness, but you mentioned information on what we seek?"

"Yes of course. Is there somewhere we could speak more privately?"

"Of course. Follow me please."

They followed the Commander down a myriad of corridors until they came to his office. Within the office each found a seat, waiting for the other to begin. As was always the case, Daniel began first.

"If I may Commander Apollo, tell us why you seek Earth and why you believe it to be your lost colony?"

"Then you will tell us what we wish to know? I suppose it is only fair. Many thousands of yahrens ago, our race lived on the planet Kobol. We were a peaceful race, a happy race, devoted to science and achievement. But even we could not control the forces of nature. The star our planet orbited was becoming unstable. And so the great exodus began. Thirteen tribes left Kobol. Twelve of them went in the same direction and founded the colonies we came from. Contact was lost with the thirteenth tribe at about this point in our history. The twelve tribes settled on a dozen different worlds in nearby star systems where we lived in peace. In peace, that is, until ten thousand yahrens ago when our race came into contact with the Cylons. There began a war that eventually left all of our people wanting peace at any cost. One man, a member of our ruling Council of Twelve, took it upon himself to negotiate a peace treaty with our ages old enemy.

"But the peace treaty was a false one designed to place all of our Battlestars at a location far from the colonies. There, the Cylons attacked en masse, destroying all but one of our Battlestars, the _Galactica_. Forces from the Cylon Empire also attacked our twelve home worlds, destroying them utterly. We rescued what survivors we could and set out to find the only remaining colony, Earth. This is what my father, Commander Adama, believed in, for he had read tales of Earth and the thirteenth tribe in the Book of the Word. Ancient legends told of a single man that had returned to the Twelve colonies to tell of his journey to Earth.

"Now we seek the only remaining outpost of our civilization in the hopes that our long lost brethren can assist us in our fight with the Cylon Empire."

"You know, what's interesting here, Jack, is that none of our history tells of any visitors from the stars other than the Goa'uld."

"Ya think? Pierson? Anything you want to add?"

"Maybe. I seem to recall Dad mentioning something about a spaceship filled with refugees crashing in what is now the Sahara. But it's not like I can call up those memories at will. I'll have to think about it some, see if I can remember anything else."

"Right. Daniel? Ya wanna fill them in?"

"Ok then, Commander Apollo. Our own history mentions nothing of any refugees from another world. We have tens of thousands of years of recorded history telling us that mankind evolved on our world. We also have the Goa'uld, who came to our world more than ten millennia ago, who took our ancestors and seeded them throughout the galaxy as slaves for their empire."

"Your world?"

"We are from Earth. Teal'c's people were taken from there millennia ago and forced into slavery on a world called Chulak."

"Earth! But you said in our first contact something about a United States?"

"Our world, Earth, is divided into a number of nation states, each of whom would like dominance over the other. But at the moment, we too are fighting a war that losing would mean the extermination of all life on Earth. Our enemy is the Goa'uld, a race of parasites that forcibly take control of a body, in this case mostly human bodies. They first came to Earth more than ten thousand years ago. They came to Earth and assumed the roles of Gods that our primitive ancestors worshipped. The leader of these Goa'uld was Ra, the God of the Sun. Our ancient ancestors were slaves to these Gods. They took thousands of them through a device called a Stargate to thousands of worlds across the galaxies and used them as slaves and as soldiers for their armies. But our ancient ancestors, with the help of a race we call the Ancients, rebelled against the Goa'uld, and kicked them off the planet. They sealed the gate. Ten thousand years later, an expedition of archaeologists found the gate. In a span of only seventy years, we had deciphered the symbols on the gate and re-opened it.

"Our first venture through the gate took us to a planet several million light years from Earth. A planet called Abydos, where, much to our surprise, we encountered inhabitants that were human and that spoke a derivation of an ancient Earth language. But we also found Ra. He told us he had created our world and that he would now destroy it. But we got there first and we destroyed him instead. And inadvertently started a war. We had re-opened our gate. The Goa'uld Hegemony had long thought our world a myth. They were unconcerned with us until we killed their leader. Now they want nothing more than to kill every one of us.

"Now, while I don't know anything about your enemy, the Cylons, I do know that the Goa'uld rule over an empire that spans tens of thousands of worlds. The one advantage we have over the Goa'uld is that their government is a number of fiefdoms, each ruled over by one of the System Lords. And fortunately for us, none of the Goa'uld have ever been able to work with one another long enough to pose a serious threat to our world."

"If you are from Earth, could you show us images? Some sort of proof?"

"I..."

At that moment, an Asgard transporter sprang into life, taking of those in the Commander's quarters to an Asgard ship that had suddenly appeared between the _Prometheus_ and the _Galactica_. Those aboard the _Prometheus_, being used to Asgard ships, took no actions. Those aboard the Battlestar, having never seen an Asgard vessel, were struck by the sheer massiveness of the vessel, and began launching fighters.

"I hate when that happens. Thor! Buddy! Good to see you again!"

"It is good to see you as well, O'Neill. Commander Apollo, I presume."

"Who are you? Where are we?"

"I am Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet. You are aboard an Asgard vessel, the _Samantha_ _Carter_."

"The _Carter_?"

"We named it, Colonel O'Neill, for that member of your team that saved our home world. But do not fear. The _O'Neill_-A is presently undergoing construction and will join our fleet soon."

"Oh well. In that case. Way to go Carter!"

"Why have you taken us from the _Galactica_?"

"I have followed the journey of your fleet for a dozen of your yahrens. You have come far. We have observed your race for many tens of thousands of yahrens. We were saddened by the loss of your twelve colonies and we have, from time to time, assisted you in your journey. But now your journey has come to a close. You have found proof that you require, proof that what you seek, exists."

"Thor? Are you saying that their story about refugees is true?"

"Our own ancient records tell of an Asgard observation post on Earth that witnessed a ship crash-landing. The ship that crashed contained within the members of the thirteenth tribe. A Goa'uld patrol spotted the ship as it entered orbit over the Earth and shot at it. The damage caused the ship to enter the atmosphere uncontrolled. Of the thousands of colonists aboard the vessel, only a few hundred survived. With their ship utterly destroyed, the survivors wandered out to seek the inhabitants of primitive Earth. They joined with those inhabitants and over the span of a few generations, all knowledge of their origins was lost."

"Then it is true. There were other visitors to our world?"

"There have been many such visitations in the ten millennia since the Goa'uld resided there."

"Well that's always good to know. Thor? What about these Cylons?"

"A most interesting dilemma, O'Neill. Because Earth is a part of the Protected Planets Treaty, the Goa'uld will not attack you, out of fear that we, the Asgard, will take action against them. There is a standard clause built into the Protected Planets Treaty, however, that states that if anyone else attacks a protected planet, neither the Goa'uld nor the Alliance will attack that person. The Cylon Empire is an unknown quantity in this galaxy. The Asgard High Council has determined there are three possibilities. The first is that the Cylon Empire will attack all races equally in this galaxy, in which case all of the protected planets are in jeopardy. The second is that the Cylon Empire will attack Earth because of the Colonial Fleet, in which case the Goa'uld Hegemony and the Alliance are under obligation to protect Earth. The last possibility is that the Cylon Empire may decide to ally itself with the Goa'uld Hegemony, in which case, the balance of power will have shifted significantly toward the Goa'uld. There are other possibilities, but these three are the most likely."

"These Goa'uld, just how powerful are they?"

"Commander Apollo. The Goa'uld are no match for the Asgard, or for any other member of the Alliance. However, their technology is significantly more advanced than yours in some areas. In fact, the technology of Earth is more advanced in some areas than yours. The Colonies are more advanced in terms of ship building and weapons technology. Earth is more advanced in terms of computing technology and power production. Perhaps if your people choose to settle on Earth, the two peoples will become more powerful. It would bring the Tau'ri one step closer to joining the Alliance. And now, I must leave."

With a flash of light, the Earthers and the Colonials were transported back to Commander Apollo's quarters. In another instant, the Asgard ship had entered hyperspace and vanished.

"Well, that was interesting. Commander Apollo, if I may, I need to get in touch with my superiors to inform them of our contact and to request further instructions. In the meantime, I suggest that we might break up this little group of ours and examine one another's technology? If as Thor suggested that we could learn a lot from one another, then perhaps we should start doing so?"

"Well said Daniel Jackson. But first, a question I may?"

"Sure."

"Why do all of you have two names?"

"There are, as of the most recent census, approximately six billion inhabitants on Earth. We use a first name, generally followed by a last name which is generally the family or clan name. Some even have a middle name, which adds to the diversity of names available. It will probably be one of the minor details that you will have to get used to."

"Six billion? Is there enough room for that many people?"

"More than enough. Our primary concern is in feeding that many people. There are some areas that do not produce as much food as others and there are areas that are relatively unpopulated where others are crowded. Earth has many problems, more so in the simple fact that Earth has many countries, each with its own vision of what should be the future. Therein lies the problem."

"We have much to learn if we are to join your society."

"Carter? Are there any gates near us?"

"Let me check, sir."

The Commander of the _Galactica_ looked on in something akin to wonder as the one called Major Carter pulled out a very thin handheld box and proceeded to use a pen like stylus to tap fairly quickly. Within a few moments she had the information she needed. A gate location. And one they had already examined and declared uninhabited. It was a mere light year away.

"Here sir. Planet P3X-459. Only a light year away."

"What is this device?"

"This? It's a PDA."

"PDA?"

"A Personal Digital Assistant. A very small form of computer."

"A terminal you mean. One that is connected to your ship perhaps?"

"No. It has its own processor and memory. It is not attached to the _Prometheus_ in any way."

"Unbelievable. Our own computron technology takes up vast rooms on the _Galactica_. I wonder how your portable computron compares to our own large ones?"

"We could find out. Marco? That's more your field of expertise I believe."

"So it is."

"Sounds like a plan. Commander, with your permission, we need to move to the co-ordinates Carter dug out of her PDA. Then we'll go down to the planet and make contact with Earth via the gate."

"Why not just go to Earth?"

"Earth is approximately thirty five hundred light years distant. With the gate only a light year away, we can contact Earth, and prepare her for the news."

"Thirty five hundred light years? That would take us several yahrens to cross that distance!"

"Only took us about three and a half hours."

"Even at light speed, you could not move that fast!"

"While our engines are capable of moving us at speeds greater than light, what they are designed for is the creation of an entrance into hyperspace, where distances are much shorter. We use hyperspace as a shortcut to get to where we want in a hurry."

"The colonies abandoned hyperspace travel long ago as unworkable. We could not develop a power source to power such a thing. But obviously you have. Let us move to this planet where your gate is located and contact Earth. Until then, you may stay here and we can become better acquainted."

"I think that would be good. I need to contact my ship."

"Of course."

----------------------------------------

"O'Neill? Everything ok?"

"Everything's a-okay, Victor. Carter's got some co-ordinates for you. We're moving the fleet to that location. Once there, scramble all fighters. Put one flight out at the limit of the scanners just to make sure that we're neither disturbed nor discovered. Keep the other two close by, just in case. Load them out with the biggest weapons we got. I'm going to ask our new friends for assistance with those patrols."

"Roger that sir. Powering engines now."

"Ok people, you heard the man. Weps, power everything up. Science, keep your eyes peeled. SG units 3, 9, 19, and 20, report to the briefing room. XO, you have the con."

"Aye sir, XO's con."

"What's up Commander?"

"Not sure. We're making for a nearby planet with a gate. _Prometheus_ will stay in orbit to provide cover. I want you folks down on the ground to secure the gate. As soon as we get into orbit, we're launching everything we have. Colonel's orders. All I can tell you is that the fleet out there off the starboard side, well, they're friendly. Seems that they are long lost 'cousins' of ours. They claimed Earth is a lost colony of theirs."

"I doubt that very much, Commander Hawkes. But we will err on the side of caution. Strike teams, get geared up. Major Ferretti? How do you want us deployed?"

"Let's set up three defensive perimeters around the gate. SG-9 is a diplomatic unit. I'd like the strike teams on the two outer perimeters with 9 and 3 on the inner perimeter. Claymores and trip wires. What do you think Commander?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. I think we have a couple of mini-guns in stores. Take those. They do their job quite well."

"I bet they do!"

"Ok, people. Gear up! Be ready to move in thirty mikes!"

----------------------------------------

Aboard the _Galactica_, Colonel Athena had given out similar orders. Red and Blue squadrons would be deployed as soon as they entered the system where this 'Gate equipped planet was located. Silver and Gold Spar squadrons would be deployed closer to the fleet. The Viper Duet squadrons would be deployed with the cruisers to lend fire support to the Viper squadrons and to the fighter squadron from the _Prometheus_.

Shortly after they entered the system, the planetary scans revealed extensive deposits of tylium on the planet. Orders were given to mine as much as possible from the planet while securing the system.

_Prometheus_ landed, deployed her teams and their gear, and then entered orbit and deployed her fighters. Raptor flight was joined shortly after launch by Red squadron from the _Galactica_ and together they proceeded to the edge of the system and stopped dead in space. They stopped to conserve power and to maximize their scanning capability. It gave each pilot the opportunity to examine, at least visually, the fighters of their lost brethren. The pilots from the _Galactica_ were of the same opinion. The fighters from Earth were strange looking. They looked like triangles; pointed at the fore end and wide and somewhat thick aft. The wings were rounded and it did not look anything like their own fighters. There were objects hanging down from the wings, the purpose of which they could not at all determine.

On the other hand, the Earth pilots were looking at the Vipers with something akin to awe. An elongated cylinder with three short wings in a delta like pattern on the after end. Three engines and what looked like a gun barrel on each of the two lower wings near to where they joined the fuselage. Each of the Earth pilots was of the same mind and they all were wondering the same thing; which was better? The Viper or the F-302?

The F-302 had one major advantage in that it used a smaller version of the naquadah generator to provide power for all of its systems, including the engines. The Viper used a fuel derived from tylium, which meant that the range of the fighter depended on how long the engines were in use. The drawback was that the Viper could fly conventionally faster, but not as long as the F-302. In the event the F-302 needed a power boost, raw hydrogen was pumped into the after-part of the engine. The resulting explosion propelled the fighter faster than even a Viper. It was like an afterburner on a terrestrial fighter, with one good thing about that; the hydrogen was picked up from space itself, and as such the fuel for the afterburner could be recharged slowly over time or quickly aboard the _Prometheus_.

Two-plus hours into the patrol, Raptor-4, picked up something on his long range LIDAR scanner.

"Base, Raptor 4. I've got a target in hyperspace moving into the system. Target is big, probably Ha'tak class. Recommend you go to full alert."

"Roger that. All fighters, prepare to engage target. Break. _Galactica_ control, we have a large enemy cruiser coming into the system. Our remaining fighters are moving to intercept now. Recommend you do the same."

"Thank you _Prometheus_. We do not see any ships on our scanners."

The Ha'tak-class Goa'uld cruiser came out of hyperspace, and approached the planet with the gate. They had come on a survey mission to examine ancient records of naquadah and trinium deposits. The Tau'ri slaves that Heru'ur had brought to this world had long ago died off of unknown causes. But according to the records, the deposits had never been mined at all. As they emerged from hyperspace, the Jaffa on the peltak saw the _Prometheus_ in orbit and notified his God, Lord Zipacna, of the presence of the Tau'ri.

"Jaffa, kree! Launch all of the Udajeet! Kill the Tau'ri!"

Raptor flight, with _Galactica_'s Red squadron, were racing in from the outer system to engage the death gliders, but they would not arrive in time to fire the opening salvos. Those would belong to Kestrel and Hawk flights. The two squadrons from the _Galactica_, Blue and Silver Spar, would arrive at approximately the same time as those from the outer reaches of the system.

The six fighters of Kestrel flight fired first, loosing a pair of missiles each. The missiles were re-designed AIM-54C Phoenix class weapons. The range had been extended now that there was no resistance from an atmosphere to a distance of three hundred and fifty miles, a mere fifteen seconds of travel in space. With their longest range missile flying fast towards their targets, the fighters of Kestrel flight broke up into fighting duos, the better to utilize the mid-range cover fire of the rail guns. A few seconds after Kestrel loosed those missiles, the six fighters of Hawk flight loosed their own volleys. But instead of breaking up into pairs, the six fighters stayed together and blew straight through the advancing death gliders on full afterburners. They were attempting to close quickly on the Ha'tak in order to use their naquadah enhanced AGM-84 Harpoon missiles.

With the Harpoons on their way, the fighters in Hawk flight broke into pairs and raced back to friendly cover. The Phoenix missiles did as they were designed and fully half of the Udajeet fighters were lost in quick fiery explosions. More death gliders could be seen in the distance, launching from the Ha'tak cruiser. But now the Harpoons were approaching to striking distance. The first six impacted on one section of the shields with the next six impacting an adjoining section. The shields in two sections had been weakened, but had not fallen.

As the fighters from the _Galactica_ and the fighters from the long range patrols joined in the fray, the _Prometheus_ moved up to take care of the Ha'tak. As soon as they came into range, the rail guns began firing at the cruiser, followed shortly by the plasma cannons. The shields on the _Prometheus_ were far greater than even those of the Ha'tak, and even with full power shots from the Ha'tak's plasma cannons, the shields on the _Prometheus_ never faltered. Naquadah coated steel shells flew in to their target at five times the speed of sound. The rail guns were firing quickly, but were draining the capacitors too quickly.

The shields on the Ha'tak fell and the _Prometheus_ now let loose a salvo of five standard AGM-119 Penguin anti-ship missiles, followed a second later by a second salvo and then a third. The Ha'tak trembled with the impacts of multiple missiles. These were not enhanced with naquadah and were being used to bring down the generators and the peltak. The Ha'tak was now adrift. The death gliders were gone. _Prometheus_ launched all of her shuttles down to the surface to pick up the SG teams. They would go in to the Ha'tak to recover weapons and any survivors.

Ten minutes later, the shuttles docked with the Ha'tak cruiser and disgorged the strike teams. SG 19 and 20 moved out quickly, leaving SG-3 to secure the landing bay. Not more than five minutes later, they were joined by a shuttle from the _Galactica_ carrying a phalanx of Colonial warriors. The two groups secured the landing bay while the other two strike teams continued with their mission. In a matter of thirty minutes, a dozen survivors had been rounded up and secured as prisoners. The bridge of the Ha'tak, or peltak, was open to space, having been the recipient of three Penguin missiles.

Inside the living quarters of the Ha'tak, they found a sarcophagus and within that unit they found Lord Zipacna, looking none the worse for wear, though his clothes were a bit on the ratty side; evidence of several bloody holes resulting from one of the Penguin hits. In a cargo bay, they found several dozen crates filled with staff weapons and Zat'nik'tel hand guns.

With Zipacna as a prisoner, and with his few remaining Jaffa also as prisoners, the strike teams returned to the landing bay. Squad leader Phillipson made his report to Major Ferretti.

"Sir! We have captured one dozen Jaffa and one Goa'uld; Lord Zipacna. We have also recovered several dozen crates of staff weapons, zat guns, and two functional sarcophagi. There was also a full load of naquadah and trinium in a second cargo bay. The engine room is intact."

"Very good, Phillipson. Secure the prisoners in the shuttle. I'll pass the good news to O'Neill."

"Yes sir!"

"Jack. The Ha'tak is ours. We've got a dozen Jaffa prisoners. And one very pissed off Goa'uld."

"Which Goa'uld would that be Ferretti?"

"In a word, Zippy."

"Yes!"

"Better news Jack. We've got cargo bays filled with naquadah and trinium, along with staff weapons and zat guns and two sarcophagi for Fraiser and Carter to play with."

"Sweet! Bring the prisoners down to the planet. We'll contact the Tok'ra and get them to take Zippy and his pals off our hands. I'm headed down there now to contact the SGC."

"Roger that."

----------------------------------------

_**Planet P3X-459**_

"Daniel, dial home would ya?"

"I bet General Hammond is gonna love this."

"Ya think?"

At the SGC, the alert klaxons resounded with the news of an off-world activation. By the time General Hammond entered the control room, the GDO code belonging to SG-1 had been received.

"Sierra Golf Command, this is Sierra Golf one actual. How copy over?"

"Read you five by five. Go ahead."

"General Hammond?"

"Problems Jack?"

"Yes and no, sir. The good news is that we've made first contact with another race out here. A very powerful race. Better yet, they were looking for us. They believe we are their long lost brothers."

"I see."

"We also ran into Zippy in a Ha'tak. _Prometheus_ and her fighters performed admirably. We have captured Zippy and a dozen or so Jaffa along with what's left of his mothership."

"Excellent work, Colonel! What do you need from me?"

"A full diplomatic team would be good."

"Done. Anything else?"

"We want to set up a temporary base here to conduct preliminary negotiations with these Colonials. We'll need something to do that with. Also, we need some heavy duty backup here. Where there's one mothership, there might be others. And we need to contact the Tok'ra so they can take Zippy and his pals off our hands."

"Understood Colonel."

"Sir, once we get the mothership into a stable orbit, we'll begin transporting its cargo down to the surface for transport back through the gate. Once we've stripped everything possible, we'll tow what's left back to Earth for disassembly."

"Belay the towing, Jack. We've finished construction on another _Prometheus_-class battlecruiser. The staff that Doctor Ramos left behind created several dozen of what they call CMUs and have completed construction of the cruiser and a full compliment of fighters and shuttles. They tell me work is proceeding on three additional battlecruisers."

"That's the best news I've heard yet, sir! What's the name on the new ship, sir?"

"_Daedalus_. The other two are as yet unnamed."

"More Greek names General?"

"It will be the last one with a Greek name. The Joint Chiefs will decide on the three other names."

"Of course sir. I'm going to close the gate down so you can start sending the equipment through."

"Expect the first shipment within the hour Colonel."

"Yes sir."

----------------------------------------

It was approximately eight hours later that an encampment had been completed. There were rings of portable anti-aircraft weapons around the perimeter, including Stingers for short range and Hawks for longer range engagements, interspersed with OCSWs amongst those emplacements. General Hammond had contacted the Colonel to inform him of the impending arrival of a full diplomatic team with representatives of the Russian Confederation, the United Kingdom, the Republic of China and France; the five permanent members of the UN Security Council. The diplomatic team was due to arrive within the hour.

On the _Galactica_, Commander Apollo had briefed the ruling Quorum of Twelve, and they had chosen a small contingent to meet with the Earth representatives on the planet below. Majors Carter and Ramos had gone over the engines on the _Galactica_ and found, to their surprise, that it would be a simple matter of adding a hyperspace generator to the Battlestar. All they needed to do so would be a large number of such generators.

There was no indication as to how long the diplomatic negotiations would last. With that in mind, Commander Apollo ordered a number of shuttles from the Agro ships down to the planet to collect food stuffs. When Colonel O'Neill learned of that order, he requested food shipments from Earth.

"Commander Apollo. I understand you have shuttles down on the surface collecting food?"

"We take every opportunity we can to supplement our diets with food grown on a planet. It's just a different taste."

"I thought as much. Which is why I've put in a request for a supplemental food shipment from Earth. Fresh fruits and vegetables, and an assortment of meats, should begin arriving shortly."

"I thank you Colonel."

"Jack. Call me Jack."

"Only if you call me Apollo."

"Deal."

A pair of hours later, several dozen pallets of fresh fruits, vegetables and other food-stuffs had come through the gate, along with two of the best chefs in the Air Force to prepare a series of special meals for the Colonials and the diplomatic teams. A selection of traditional Earth dishes were their marching orders. Shortly thereafter, the diplomats began arriving. The British Ambassador arrived with a select squad of British SAS. The French Ambassador came through the gate with a mixed squad of DGSE and Foreign Legion troopers. Colonel Chekov, the Russian representative to the American Stargate program, arrived with one of the three Russian Stargate teams that had been assigned to the SGC. The Chinese Ambassador was the last to arrive, with an entourage of Chinese special forces troopers. Remembering that the last meeting with these gentlemen had been less than sterling, General Hammond had relayed very specific orders to Jack O'Neill.

The diplomatic meetings were due to begin within the hour. But first there would be a quick briefing by SG-1 to the diplomats from Earth.

"Gentlemen. First of all, allow me to welcome you to planet P3X-459. There are a dozen SG teams here to insure your safety as well as your own security personnel. Additionally, the battlecruiser USAF _Prometheus_ is in orbit over this world and her fighters are in space patrolling all approaches to this system. An additional battlecruiser, the USAF _Daedalus_ is enroute from Earth. So as you may have guessed, we have worked out most of the bugs with the battlecruiser and with the space superiority fighters. Why do I tell you this? Because our goal is to defend Earth. Eventually, I would like to see teams made up from each of your countries at the SGC, but for now, we need fighter pilots to help defend Earth.

"We have a full fifteen squadrons under construction at the moment. They will be based at Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado, near the SGC, until we have completed construction of additional battlecruisers. But I digress. _Prometheus_ came out here to conduct flight trials. We wanted to test all our systems, both on the cruiser as well as in our fighters. But instead of testing, we encountered another space fairing race. One, I might add, that is very interested in negotiating a treaty with us. We also encountered one Goa'uld Ha'tak-class mothership, which, I'm delighted to add, has been captured. The Goa'uld commanding the ship, Zipacna, was also captured and is currently being held under guard here on the planet. We are awaiting a representative from the Tok'ra Council to arrive and take control of the prisoner. The _Prometheus_ is now tried and true in battle. It took little effort to disable and then capture the Ha'tak. Any questions before I continue?"

"You say, Colonel O'Neill, that you have captured a Ha'tak intact?"

"Yes, that is mostly correct. We were forced to disable the shield generators and the engines. There is a repair crew aboard now attempting to effect critical repairs. Otherwise, we will tow the ship into orbit around the dark side of the moon."

"I see. And this other race you mentioned?"

"They are a space fairing race. From what we have gathered so far, they have had space travel for several thousand years. But in some areas, notably computing and shield technologies, they are at least a hundred years behind us. They are human, and they are seeking a world to colonize or barring that, they may seek to move in with us, as it were."

"They wish to come to Earth?"

"That is correct Ambassador Chen. They believe us to be a long lost colony of theirs. Some information has come to light in recent days which indicates that their reasoning may not be all that incorrect. Apparently, some ten thousand years ago, a ship came to Earth. It was not a Goa'uld ship, however, and the Goa'uld shot it down. It apparently was this long lost colony ship. The survivors from the crashed ship, unable to utilize any of their technology, integrated themselves with existing civilizations on Earth. So we may indeed share a common ancestry with these newcomers. There is another thing you must understand before you meet them. Whereas each of us has at least two names, a first name and a family name, the newcomers do not share that tradition. They use a first name only; no trace that we have discovered of any usage of familial names."

"How very odd."

"On that I agree Ambassador Lord White."

----------------------------------------

An hour later, a trio of shuttles from the _Galactica_ made their approach to the planet. The SGC had prepared an arrivals area for the dignitaries. Over a number of strategically placed loud speakers, a selection of regal sounding music was playing, not so loud as to disturb the speech making that was sure to come, but loudly enough to be heard. An honor guard had been hastily put together from the security personnel the Ambassadors had brought to the planet. They now stood at parade rest, each holding a flag of their respective nations.

"Honor guard, A-Ten-Shun!"

Three _Galactica_n shuttles touched down next to the reception area. From one shuttle came a score of Colonial warriors, to add to the security forces already present on the planet. From the second came Commander Apollo and his command staff, made up of Colonel Athena, Majors Boomer and Sheba, Captain Starbuck, and Doctor Cassiopeia. From the third shuttle came forth President Tigh and the members of the Council of Twelve.

From a short distance away, Methos and a number of the more ancient Immortals stood by, watching the proceedings silently. Marco, Ramirez, Cierdwyn, and Alex joined him, and above him floated Tok'Ra, watching two of his special interests come together. Many millennia ago he had watched helplessly as the craft carrying the members of the Thirteenth tribe crashed into what is now called North Africa, near present day Egypt. Curious as to their origins, he had moved without effort through space to their point of origin, the planet called Kobol. He could see evidence of a number of other ship trails and these he followed to the Twelve colony worlds. Curious about them, he fashioned a number of probes which he hid in a convenient dimension not visible to anyone except another Ancient. From time to time he checked on the knowledge contained within the probes and saw as the colony worlds expanded and ventured into space once again. He saw as they made contact with a reptilian race calling themselves Cylons. He saw as they entered in to a millennia long war that raged across many systems until their own twelve primary worlds were destroyed.

He knew that some of his fellow Ancients had chosen to interfere with their plight. He knew the one that called himself John, the one that had spoken on several occasions to Apollo. He knew of the one called Iblis that had attempted to take the Colonial refugees as worshippers. His was a sad case. He was one of the Ascendants, not a true Ancient, but was recognized as such by the others. They chose to try and correct his efforts towards evil. Even among the Ancients, there was a capacity towards evil.

A few dozen yards away, the Colonials and the Earthers had finished their initial greetings and were moving towards the large tent that had been set up for the diplomatic proceedings. Methos and his companions moved towards the tent and took seats along the outer periphery. Tok'Ra also entered the tent only to find John floating near the Colonials.

"John. It's been a long time."

"Tok'Ra, what is time to beings such as us?"

"True, but it has still been a few centuries since I last saw you and the others on that Ship of Lights of yours. Is Iblis still mad over that prison thing?"

"Unfortunately yes. He is even more angered now. Apollo sacrificed himself so that Iblis would not take the one called Sheba from him. Because of the sacrifice, we interfered and forced Iblis away from the refugees. But he still wants them. I'm afraid for them if they fall under his influence again."

"If Iblis comes to Earth, he'll no doubt run into my son and his friends."

"Your son? Ah, yes. I remember him now. He still lives?"

"He's sitting in the back, watching the proceedings."

"Yes! I see him. And so many others that also possess the Quickening energies? How can that be?"

"An experiment conducted by myself and a few select others. Trying to create a race of humans with the potential to develop into Ancients like ourselves. But somewhere along the way, that experiment was corrupted. Some mortal somewhere in time spread a rumor that the last Immortal alive on the planet would get some nebulous prize and so they go around trying to cut each others heads off. Such a waste. But many have survived millennia of life and if they are to advance to the next level of existence, then they must survive several more millennia."

"You always were the ambitious one."

"A bold plan that must work, I'm afraid."

"Yes. It must. Our race is not getting any younger and I'm afraid my brethren on the Ship have lost their way. They no longer seek to guide the Colonials. They wish only to declare war on Iblis."

"That is not good."

"No. And I am becoming unable to convince them otherwise."

"Perhaps this new alliance can help hold them off for now?"

"Perhaps. I shall inform them."

"Do that. In the meantime, I think I will converse with my son. I will see you soon, yes?"

"Now that my charges have met your charges, I'm sure that we will see one another again."

Methos saw his father while he conversed with the other Ancient. The strength of his own Quickening allowed him to see the two Ancients and it made him wonder about the other one. He seemed vaguely familiar, but he could not place the face. Then the other one left, and Tok'Ra floated over to Methos. The other elder Immortals around Methos felt the approach of an immensely powerful Quickening, but among them, only Ramirez recognized the source. In the next instant, time appeared to have stopped for the non-Immortals in the room. Tok'Ra was manipulating the flow of time.

"Playing with time again, eh Dad?"

"Just for a few moments, my son. What needs to be said to you must also be said to all of your Immortal companions. Please call of them to the area outside the tent. Son, please bring O'Neill outside as well. I will release him from temporal stasis."

"Sure, dad."

A moment or two later, the area outside the main diplomatic tent was filled with the two Immortal strike teams, Methos and Marco.

"I have called you all together to properly introduce myself. I am Tok'Ra, Elder of the Ancients, and father-creator to all of you. It was a touch of my Quickening energies that gave all of you Immortality. It is that touch that will, in the fullness of time, allow you to transcend the corporeal plane to a state and level like mine. But for now, there is a rather serious problem. Millennia ago, an evil mortal used science and technology to ascend to the plane of the Ancients. The rest of us gave him credit for his ingenuity and recognized him as one of our own before realizing his evil nature. Now he threatens not only the Colonials, but also Earth and all of the other human inhabited worlds. It will take all of your combined talents to defeat him."

"What about the Goa'uld?"

"If Iblis joins together with them, the Goa'uld Hegemony will be unstoppable. He will do what no other Goa'uld has been able to do since Ra. He will unite them into one force."

"That would not be a good thing."

"No, O'Neill, it would not. You and my son have already been to one of the intergalactic conferences. I propose organizing a new one as soon as possible to deal with this new threat. My son, my recommendation to you is to summon all of the Immortals together. Form a ruling council. This war between the mortals and the Goa'uld has now grown larger. It now affects all on your world."

"What of the Game? A gathering such as you suggest would trigger the Game, would it not?"

"The Game is a lie. Created by a mortal with too much time and too little to do and too much knowledge of your kind. If the others do not believe you, perhaps they will believe me. You can sense it in my Quickening. I am far older than all of you combined."

"I, for one, believe your father, Revered One."

"Ramirez, you of all people, should not call me Revered One."

"I give titles where they are deserved, Methos."

"Fine. Father, perhaps we should make sure that the Colonials and the Earth diplomats sign an agreement?"

"Yes, I think that would be best."

It was as if nothing had happened. Time resumed its march forward. Within the tent, the Colonial President had concluded his remarks and now the task of negotiating a mutual defense alliance was beginning in earnest. Tok'Ra floated into the tent, making himself visible as a mass of shapeless energy. All around the tent security forces were quick to raise weapons.

Weapons were still aimed at Tok'Ra until Colonel O'Neill intervened and ordered the weapons lowered.

"Lower your weapons! As you were! He's an ally!"

"I thank you for your concern over my well being Colonel, but your weapons cannot possibly harm me. I bring you information for your pending alliance."

"I know your kind! You are from the Ship of Lights?"

"No Apollo, I am not. I do know, however, of the Ship of Lights, and I consider John a brother. His kind and my kind are the same; we are all of the race known as the Ancients. Some tens of millennia ago, my race was allied with three other races. The Alliance was created to act as shepherds to the younger races. We failed. We were betrayed. Take your pick. The truth is that you younger races have come far with only minimal interference on our part.

"President Tigh, Commander Apollo. I offer you the use of my base on the planet called Mars in the Sol system. The members of the Earth command known as the SGC may also use the base there along with the combat stations buried within Phobos and Deimos. Colonel O'Neill, you have already been aboard one of my combat stations. Would it surprise you to know that there are dozens of such stations hidden within the asteroid belt of your home system?"

"When it comes to you Tok'Ra, nothing surprises me anymore."

"Well put, Colonel. It is time, I believe, for the people of Earth to put aside their petty squabbles and act as one. Each member of a foreign government here, those of you in the so called Security Council are each thinking how you can get your hands on Colonial technology or Ancient technology and how you can put it to use in your governments. No. If any of your governments use any of these technologies against the other, the repercussions will be severe. I propose a treaty amongst yourselves, to be signed by week's end, binding each of you. Binding you to come together and deal with any one of you that misuses the power you will gain. It is my suggestion that an impartial group take control of the technologies in question. A group to be headed by my son, Methos."

"And how do we can trust that your son will be impartial?"

"He is a citizen of your world, Ambassador Lord White. While I have not always been there for my son, particularly when he obviously needed a guiding hand, I have always looked out for him. I believe he fought in the American Revolution, against your forces, but later served with your forces during your Second World War as a code breaker. He was with the French resistance movement in your First World War and was in China during your Revolution. He is as much a citizen of any of your nations as he is of Earth. The same can be said for his companions."

"That's preposterous! Your son would have to be over three centuries old to have done all of that!"

"Actually Mr. Ambassador, I am just over ten millennia in age. And I agree with my father on principle. Who better to administer the trust of the Ancient's technologies than the oldest inhabitants on the planet? The ones who have seen, time and again, what you short-lived mortals can get up to."

"I agree with Captain Pierson. As another long time resident of the planet, I think the idea raised by Tok'Ra is as near a perfect solution as possible. With the limitations placed on Earth by the Protected Planets Treaty, clause 10851, as signed by the Asgard and the Goa'uld, it is as perfect as possible."

"Well spoken Marco!"

"Coming from you, Ramirez, old friend, that is high praise indeed!"

"Are you telling me that there are inhabitants on Earth that are, shall I say, very long lived?"

"Ambassador Chen, more so than anyone else on Earth, we Immortals are citizens of Earth, as we have, at some point in time, lived in nearly every part of the world. And we may someday ascend to become Ancients, many thousands of years hence."

To say that the assembled dignitaries were a bit on the stunned side would be to say that the sky is blue or that water is wet. Stunned they were by the revelations that there were beings on Earth that were centuries old or even millennia old. They soon found that the youngest Immortal on the strike teams was the younger MacLeod who came in at just over four hundred. The oldest was Pierson at ten thousand. But the second oldest was Ramirez at thirty-eight hundred, followed closely by Ptahsennes at thirty-seven fifty. Marco Ramos was a mere twenty-six hundred.

He had been born two and a half millennia before in what was then the Roman Empire. His first death was on a battlefield in Spain. He awoke in a shallow grave and after digging through the moist soil to the surface, he saw the man who would become his teacher standing over him.

The Ambassadors present had recovered from their shock somewhat. The news was sinking in that they were not the only species on the planet. Furthermore, Tok'Ra told them that without doubt, Immortality could not be transferred from one person to another. Any experimentation done by any nation on an Immortal would bring down the wrath of the Ancients on that nation. It was a sobering thought and an even more sobering moment for the assembled dignitaries.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am presenting you with a draft resolution that covers an alliance between the Ancients and the peoples of Earth and the descendants of Kobol. A proposal that calls for a council of Immortals to oversee the distribution of Ancients technology. Among those technologies are cures for various diseases and methods for producing clean power. Any attempt detected by the Immortal Council to use those technologies for ill will result in an immediate revocation of said technologies. Understand this people, the threat of an alliance between Iblis and the Goa'uld Hegemony is real. The Asgard are forbidden by treaty from interfering with the normal technological progression of Earth. The Protected Planets Treaty prevents the Goa'uld from attacking Earth out of fear of reprisals by the Asgard. It does not prevent a Goa'uld, outside of the Hegemony, from attacking Earth. Furthermore, if any member of the SGC is caught off-world, then it's a bad thing. The Asgard are forbidden from interfering. The Asgard are kind and benevolent, but even they can not be everywhere at once. They are fighting a war of their own in their home galaxy."

"You have given us much to think about. I think we should retire for the day and contemplate these issues."

"A most excellent suggestion Colonel Chekov. We shall retire for three days to contemplate these events. Then reassemble and work out this new treaty."

"Gentlemen, please. We can work out all the treaties we like, but what will our governments say? Ambassadors, tell me honestly, even if you can convince your leaders of the need for this treaty, each of us know that such a treaty must be ratified by our representative bodies and by the United Nations as a whole. Each of us know how difficult that last part can be."

"No more so true than in the United States, eh Ambassador Richards?"

"I admit that our Senate may decide not to ratify the treaty, even though both myself and odds are, the President will recommend passage. The one thing in our favor is that the entire Senate, nay, the entire Congress has only recently been replaced. I believe President Ryan can convince the Senate to ratify the treaty."

"President Sir John is a formidable man. I for one would not wish to stand against him."

"Nor would I. Let us adjourn, as Ambassador Chen has suggested, for a period of three days. Then with renewed vigor shall we draft this treaty."

----------------------------------------

In another tent, the Immortals were discussing something of great importance to them.

"You're saying, Methos, that your father told them about us? We'll be hunted!"

"No. We won't. Actually, the treaty that he proposes calls upon all nations that are party to the treaty to protect us as 'planetary resources'. If a nation that did not sign the treaty takes one or more of us, the signatory nations must do everything in their power to retrieve us. We will also be granted diplomatic passports with no expiration date, with the condition that if one of us breaks one of their laws, then we will deal with the miscreant."

"And with a number of us serving on the strike teams, the odds that one of us present here will break a law or commit a crime is fairly low. So the task that is before us then is to figure out another thing Tok'Ra proposed and that is the formation of an Immortal Council. I won't pretend to say that it will be an easy thing. Those of us here are probably the more stable of our kind. We have, for the most part, outgrown the need to hunt for heads. Unfortunately there are too many others who have yet to realize the truth. Any ideas on how to do this?"

"Maybe. Methos, what were to happen if we asked for a Gathering? On holy ground?"

"Alex, none of us have felt that inexplicable pull for a Gathering. Father? Is it possible to trigger something along those lines?"

"Listen all of you. While there is no truth whatsoever to the Game or the Prize, there is truth in the Gathering. In the same way you can tell when another of your kind is near, the Gathering is triggered when an Immortal of significant power shows himself to the world. In your case, no such Immortal exists. It may be possible to trigger a gathering under two possible cases. One, if all of the oldest Immortals on your world were to gather together and release their signatures as one, it may be theoretically possible to trigger the Gathering. And no, I do _not_ mean taking a head. All of you know to some extent how to tone down your Quickening so as not to appear so old to an unknown Immortal. For this I would recommend Immortals that have passed at a bare minimum, the one millennia mark, but it would be better to be at least two millennia in age."

"Well that limits things quite a bit. What is the second option?"

"Two, I can release the full power of my Quickening. It alone would trigger the Gathering. And yes my son, I could do this for you, but perhaps it would be better for everyone concerned if I don't reveal myself too soon."

"Ok. Let's look at the first option father, and let us determine if we have enough 'power' for lack of a better term, to unleash a Gathering?"

"Very well my son."

It took but a few moments to gather the names on the list.

"Father, we've come up with twelve names. The top group is over two millennia, the second group is between one and two millennia, and the last group is less than one thousand years in approximate age. In the first group we have Ramirez, Ptahsennes, Alex, Cassandra, Marco, and myself. In the second group, we have Amanda and Cierdwyn. In the final group we have the MacLeods and the de Valicourts. Do we have enough?"

"No my son. I'm afraid you do not. In three of your days, the Ambassadors will meet to discuss the treaties. A day later, I will move all of the ships in orbit above to an orbit over Mars."

"Wh? Uhm, you can move the entire fleet?"

"The small ships can be sent through the CombatGate. The three larger Battlestars will be moved via a wormhole. I have the ability to create a stable wormhole anytime I so desire. When you are old enough my son, that ability will manifest itself in you. Perhaps in another five thousand years or so."

"Gee, thanks dad." Said Methos with a smirk on his face.

----------------------------------------

Three days passed quickly and the Ambassadors reassembled to consider the matter of the two treaties. After several hours of discussions and arguments, the Ambassadors had hammered out a preliminary treaty that their governments would refine. An hour later, the Ambassadors and their security teams had returned through the gate to the SGC. Four hours after the last Ambassador had departed, and the extra security teams had either returned to the SGC, or had ringed aboard either the _Prometheus_ or the _Daedalus_.

The smaller ships, including the two USAF battlecruisers, lined up with the _Daedalus_ at the lead, and the _Prometheus_ bringing up the rear to enter the CombatGate. Travel via the CombatGate took less than ten seconds. As the _Daedalus_ was the first to go through the gate, it launched its compliment of fighters. The fighters broke into pairs and marshaled the incoming fleet into parking orbits as quickly as was possible. When the _Prometheus_ arrived, it too launched its fighters. However, instead of marshalling the fleet, the fighters raced to the outer limits of the solar system and began laying down a series of early warning satellites. The satellites had been a gift from the Colonials.

_Prometheus_ came down into the Martian atmosphere and transmitted a code over the frequency Tok'Ra had given to SG-1. From beneath the Martian surface a tower came up. It had lain in a sheltered silo for more than twenty millennia, but now it was active. With its activation, a series of smaller towers emerged that indicated the perimeter of the hangar bays for the base itself. As the base was activated, Zero Point Energy generators deep within the planet's crust began once again providing massive amounts of electrical power for the base. With a bit of manipulation of time-space, Tok'Ra refilled the store rooms of the base with fresh supplies taken from various parts of Earth. While all of this was going on, Ambassador Ernest Richards was meeting with President John Patrick Ryan.

"Mr. President."

"Ernest. You have news?"

"I do sir. Mr. President, Jack, what I am about to tell you is something so fantastic, that I'm not even sure where to begin."

"The beginning is always a good place, Ernest."

"Sir. Perhaps it would be best if you called in the senior staff, and the cabinet. I'm not sure how many times I can tell this story."

"Very well. Arnie? Make the calls."

"Of course, Jack."

"Sir, if I may suggest also that Major Paul Davis be brought in? He knows a lot more about the situation in general than I do."

"Arnie?"

"On it sir."

Fifteen minutes later, the majority of the cabinet and the senior staff had filed into the situation room. Ten minutes after that, Major Davis arrived from the Pentagon. He began the briefing with a history lesson. With the exception of President Ryan, Vice-President Jackson, and Secretary Bretano, the others in the room had no clue as the nature of the briefing. In addition to the National Security Advisor, Dr. Ben Goodley, the Foleys of the CIA, and Brigadier General John Clark of the organization known as Rainbow were present.

"Gentlemen, Ladies. The information I am about to give you is classified Code Word extreme secret. In 1928, an archaeological expedition to the Giza plateau uncovered a large ring object that had been buried for at least ten thousand years under a large cover stone. The large ring was actually made up of two rings, one within the other. On the outer ring is a series of nine chevrons spaced evenly about the circumference. The inner ring, or inner track, has thirty-nine symbols engraved onto it.

"The ring was transported to the United States where for some seven decades, it was experimented on by at first the US Army and later by the US Air Force. Seven decades with no luck at all in deciphering the inscriptions on the cover stone or on the inner track of the device. Then, in 1994, the then project head Dr. Catherine Langford brought in a young scientist to the project. That man was Dr. Daniel Jackson. He did in two weeks what seventy years of scientists and linguists could not do. He not only translated the cover stone, but he also deciphered the symbols on the inner track.

"The result was a covert mission through what Dr. Jackson called the Stargate, to a world on the opposite side of our galaxy called Abydos. Their objective was to discover any potential threats to Earth and if found, to detonate a nuclear device on the other side. They did discover a threat to Earth and after a series of firefights during which several US soldiers lost their lives, that threat was neutralized.

"The threat they discovered is known as the Goa'uld. At the time, we thought the one Goa'uld they found on Abydos was the only one. So the Special Forces team returned to Earth, leaving Dr. Jackson behind on Abydos. On Earth, the project was shut down for close to two years before the gate was opened from off-world. Whereas we had assumed that the gate only went to one planet, in actuality it goes to thousands upon thousands of planets. And unfortunately with the death of that first Goa'uld on Abydos, we, the United States, and Earth in general made a very dangerous enemy. An enemy that initially wanted nothing more than to forget all about Earth, but now want nothing more than to utterly destroy our world."

"Good God!"

"Actually Mr. Secretary, the Goa'uld believe they are Gods and as such they have the right to do with us as they please. They see us as nothing more than slaves and potential hosts for more of their kind. In response to the re-opening of the gate, the Air Force re-activated the command facility that the gate had been housed in.

"Located beneath the NORAD complex, Stargate Command, or SGC, is our first line of defense against the Goa'uld. In the seven years that the SGC has been active, they have been responsible for the deaths of seven major Goa'uld system lords and several more minor Goa'uld. They have also helped to broker several treaties with off-world allies, including the Tok'ra, the Tollan, and the Asgard. There are also several dozen minor trade treaties in place with a number of worlds. There have been several advances in our technology as a result of our various travels through the Gate."

"What sort of advances?"

"We now have, as a result of research done into alien technologies, two battlecruisers in operation. Both ships are fully operational and are currently in orbit. Both ships are also home to eighteen fighters each of endo/exo atmospheric fighters and four surface to orbit shuttles per vessel. The two ships in question can land on a planet and are fully stealthed. Additionally, both ships possess a cloaking system that renders them invisible to the naked eye. There are also advances on the medical front as a result of captured Goa'uld technology, not the least of which is called a 'Hand Device', that when worn by a person that has a substance called naquadah in their blood stream, can be used to heal a person. This particular mineral is the basic building block of all Goa'uld technology. It is the quartz-like metallic mineral that makes up the Stargate. When used in accompaniment to an explosive, it increases the explosive power of the device by one thousand times. In more general terms, that means that a one kiloton bomb that has been enhanced with naquadah becomes a one megaton explosive device. More to the point, is that when naquadah is mixed with any form of radioactive material, the explosive force is multiplied by several orders of magnitude.

"After one of our SG teams encountered a world called Kelowna, we encountered a form of naquadah called naquadria. It is this isotope of naquadah that enables our ships to travel vast distances in space in a matter of seconds."

"What sort of distance?"

"To put it in terms that can be easily understood, trip time to the moon is down to two minutes. Mars is eight minutes away. The outer solar system, like Pluto, is twenty minutes away. This travel is done via standard engines powered by naquadah. If the same travel were to be done via the hyper drive engines, the trip would be nearly instantaneous to any point in the solar system."

"We have this technology and we're still using an aging shuttle fleet?"

"The two ships in question only came on-line this year, as did their squadrons."

"Major Davis, if all this information is as classified as you claim, then why brief us all in. I can understand Secretary Bretano and the President and VP being briefed, but why us?"

"Excellent point Secretary Winston. The first battlecruiser, the _Prometheus_, was out on an extended set of deep-space trials when they encountered a space-fairing race. A race, I might add, that was seeking us, seeking Earth. They have some myth among their peoples of thirteen tribes that went out among the stars to form colonies. Twelve of those tribes settled in one area of the galaxy, while the last one came in our direction. That thirteenth tribe apparently crash-landed on Earth approximately ten thousand years ago. The survivors of the colony ship, with all of their technology destroyed, joined with the primitive tribes on Earth. So in essence, some of us in this room may be genetic descendants of that colony ship."

"What? They wish to come to Earth? Is that it?"

"I'm going to turn over this briefing to Ambassador Ernest Richards, who will give you the answer to that question. Sir?"

"Thank you Major Davis. Gentlemen, Ladies. Approximately five days ago I was standing on an alien planet deep in negotiations with this other race. They call themselves Colonials or descendants of Kobol, but Colonials will suffice.

"Also present at that meeting were the Ambassadors from the United Kingdom, France, Russia, and China; the five permanent members of the UN Security Council. After much discussion, we have hammered out a preliminary treaty with the Colonials. There is also a second treaty with another group that must also be discussed. This second group call themselves Immortals, and folks, let me tell you something, they were born and currently live on Earth."

"Immortals? On Earth? How can that be?"

"That question I'm afraid I can't answer. That will be up to the Immortals themselves as to what they wish to share. The oldest of them is over ten millennia, and I understand from the one I spoke with, a Captain Adam Pierson, USAF, that there are Immortals as young as twenty-five years. He even spoke of one that became an Immortal at the age of eleven and at the time of his death, appeared no older than eleven but was actually over eight hundred years old. It is my understanding that an Immortal appears normal and ages normally up until the time of their first 'death' at which point the aging process stops. Captain Pierson appears to be about twenty-six or so, but he's actually over ten thousand."

"Is there anyway to tell a normal from an Immortal?"

"Apparently not sir. At least I couldn't tell. Though Immortals can sense one another, the range at which they can sense the other is limited to a few dozen meters."

"And they want what?"

"Nothing spectacular really. Just a treaty that promises a few things. One, they ask never to be used for medical research. I can see their viewpoint on this. One of the airmen on the Immortal strike team told me that some years ago he was involved in a car accident. The paramedics on the scene took him into the hospital barely alive. By the time they got to the emergency room, he had almost fully healed. The doctor on duty witnessed the healing. That doctor abducted him, then proceeded to kill him repeatedly over the course of two weeks to chart his healing abilities. I can understand the desire for knowledge, but we have to realize that these men and women are human and to do to them what is illegal to do to a mortal would be a crime.

"Second, the want a promise from us that if any other country abducts one of them for medical research, that we will utilize everything at our disposal to retrieve that Immortal. Thirdly, they would like to be recognized as citizens, with non-expiring social security numbers and passports. They would like for the passports to be diplomatic in nature so that when they travel by air, there won't be a whole lot of questions about their choice of wardrobe accessory."

"Accessory!"

"All of them carry a sword."

"A sword. Immortals. Swords. Right. Sure."

"In return, they promise not to violate any of our laws. If any Immortal does break a law, they request first opportunity to handle the matter themselves. Apparently, that's what the swords are for. It seems that only another Immortal has the power to take the life of one of their own."

"Ouch."

"Furthermore, they will be forming their own governing body, an Immortal Council, that will be charged with the dissemination of technology that has been entrusted to them by the Ancient's Representative, Tok'Ra."

"What sort of technology?"

"How about cold fusion? A cure for the common cold? Or better yet, cures for cancer, AIDS, SARS, and any number of other diseases that currently plague mankind. Or what about technology to transform arid regions into fertile regions. The ability to transform a desert into a forest. Also the tech necessary to enable us to colonize the nearer planets and moons. But there is a caveat."

"Caveat? Isn't there always."

"They do not want the United States to be the sole recipient of this technology. They want the technology to be shared equally with every nation on Earth. Any nation which misuses the technology for ill, will be dealt with severely by the Immortals, by the Ancients, by the Colonials, and my suggestion is, by other nations."

"The Colonials, for their part, will share their technology with us completely. They wish to be recognized as an independent nation with all the rights given to a nation. They will trade with us technology for technology, metals and minerals for food."

"Where will they settle?"

"Tok'Ra, the Representative of the Ancients, has offered them the usage of the Ancients' base on Mars."

"Could we also establish a colony on Mars?"

"I'm sure that could be arranged Mr. President."

"Mr. Ambassador, you mentioned an exchange of technology?"

"Director Brandt, while the Colonials are a space fairing race, and while they may be advanced in weapons and medical technologies, certainly more advanced in areas such as engineering, they are far behind us in other areas. They have been in space for thousands of years, but their computers take up vast rooms on their ships. They are, in terms of computing technology, where the US was say, at the end of the Second World War. They don't use any form of shielding on their ships nor do they possess teleportation technology. I'm told that the USAF is in possession of this technology and that it is used aboard the _Prometheus_ and the _Daedalus_."

"We have that technology and I've never heard of it?"

"Dr. Brandt, up until today, that information was very classified."

"But we will have full access now?"

"That is my understanding, sir."

"So now what?"

"Now we work out the details of the treaties before us. Then we push them through the Senate for ratification. Gentlemen, while we are meeting here, I'm sure similar meetings are underway in the UK, France, Russia, and China. Once we've ratified the treaty, then we can announce to the general public the information about the Colonials. I'd suggest the information on the Immortals be released by them once they have their governing body established. Furthermore, there is still the matter of the enemy of the Colonials, who have sworn the equivalent of a blood oath to exterminate all humanoid life in the universe. And the matter of the Goa'uld who want nothing more than to execute a scorched earth policy on our world. We must help the Colonials if we expect them to help us."

"Then we must make sure this treaty is as ironclad as possible and get it ratified as quickly as possible. Gentlemen, we have a lot of work to do. Take a five minute break, stretch your legs. We'll reconvene and get to work. Robby, Ed, MP, Clark. You four stay. The rest of you excuse us for five minutes."

"Of course Mr. President."

"Jack."

"Robby. Round up the best aviators we have in every branch. I want to lend the Colonials the equivalent of one of their squadrons in personnel as a sign of good faith. The rest of the men or women that you recommend will be assigned to operational squadrons on the three new battlecruisers the Air Force is currently building. General Hammond at the SGC is also requesting pilots from Russia, China, France, and the UK to make up some squadrons.

"Ed, Mary Pat. I want you to work with the SGC to get a handle on the intelligence gathering they have at their disposal.

"John, I'd like you to station one of your teams at the SGC until further notice, to assist them with anything they might need. I'm going to ask Director Murray to lend you enough replacements to cover the duties of your missing team. I'd also want someone from Rainbow to liaison with the SGC on a permanent basis."

"I'll get on it right away, Jack."

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_**Elsewhere in the United States**_

Methos had used some of his stashed funds to purchase a large plot of land in the wilds of Colorado. Then he'd had a number of different religious leaders come in to consecrate the land. Holy Ground. The one place where all Immortals could walk without fear of being challenged. Then he'd built a simple house, octagonal in shape and over eight thousand square feet in size. The members of the Immortal strike team were already present, as were the members of SG-1. Once a number of simple shelters had been erected, the assembled Immortals sat down to await the first arrivals. Tok'Ra did as promised and unleashed the full force of his Quickening. Every Immortal in the room looked at one another with awe. The sheer power of Tok'Ra's Quickening called to them, pulled them closer, made them want to feel that Quickening. Made them want to embrace all of that power intimately. Around the world, Immortals looked up from whatever they were doing and felt the pull of the Gathering. One pair was even in the midst of a fight when they felt the pull. Both fell to the ground, writhing in the ecstasy of the sensation of the powerful Quickening. All would come, one way or another. Almost all would go to the site of the Gathering. Somewhere in Colorado, in the United States.

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Thanks to the miracle of modern transportation technology, they arrived in Colorado within three days.

Joe Dawson had the watch in the tower built into Pierson's home. He saw as the Immortals began arriving, mostly singly, but a few in pairs. He started to keep a list, but after a short while he gave up.

Connor MacLeod, elder cousin and clansman to Duncan MacLeod. Lucas Desiree, a former General in the Confederate Army. Grace Chandler, a medical researcher. Greg Powers, a doctor and famous photographer. Marcus Constantine, a General in the army of Rome. Herbert Gris, a pilot for the German Air Force. Kassim, a General in the army of Iran. The list went on and on. All were surprised to see that the Gathering would take place on Holy Ground. Many were praying to whatever Gods they believed in that no fights would occur there. The potential for disaster was just too great.

One by one they came into the large circular area that had been prepared by the Air Force engineering teams for this purpose.

Connor MacLeod walked into the cleared area and spotted his cousin, Duncan, on the opposite side. He went to him and pulled him into a bear hug. Then he noticed who else was already there. He greeted Methos by name, then in turn he greeted Amanda and Cassandra. He was shocked however, upon seeing Ramirez.

"Wh? Who? How?"

"Take note, dear friends. This is a moment that all too rarely happens. A Highlander at a loss for words."

"The Kurgan. He took your head. How?"

"MacLeod. I am quite alive. I will admit that brute of a man came close, however, fate in the form of a God intervened."

"God? What does God have to do with this?"

"Not God. A God. Someone you will meet when all the players have been assembled. Now come. You and I, we have much to catch up on. You are taking good care of my sword, yes?"

Marco Ramos, born Marius Augustus, recognized others as they entered the clearing. Marcus Constantine. Palos Karros. Hamza ibn Mohammed. The first two he knew from his time spent with the Roman army. The last as the man who taught him the art of the sword smith.

"Constantine. Karros. Hamza. It has been too long since we have spoken."

"Marius? Is it you?"

"It is Marcus. The last time I saw you was in Rome. After our glorious victories in Gaul."

"I remember that. It has really been far too long, old friend. I hope that it does not come down to us. I would hate to take your head."

"It won't come to that. At least I hope not."

"Marius, what do you mean. Speak plainly."

"Hamza, Palos. I shall speak plainly. The time has come for us to gather. But not to fight. The Game. It is all a lie. On that you have my word."

"A lie? But how? And if this is true, then all those Immortals whose Quickenings we've claimed?"

"It is true. As to the Quickenings, I think that I shall let another explain this."

Constantine looked at the assembled Immortals and blanched as he saw another one walk in. Nefertiri. A woman he had once loved. Hand maiden to Cleopatra. She acknowledged him with a nod before moving to Duncan MacLeod. Marcus felt a twinge of misplaced jealousy.

Not all of the Immortals now present were technically good. Some were quite evil. Paul Kinman, a highly paid assassin. Herbert Gris, a pilot formerly in the German Air Force, and now a highly paid mercenary pilot. During the Second World War, Gris had been with Hitler's SS. Everett Bellion, a retired French army Colonel that had once tried to kill a mortal acquaintance of Duncan MacLeod. Cage, a smuggler. Kassim, a known terrorist. Felicia Martins, an internationally known thief and hired assassin.

Countless numbers were soldiers, or had been soldiers at one time or another. Mako. Dallman Ross. Warren Cochrane. The numbers of Immortals present kept growing and growing. It was hours before all of the Immortals in the known world were finally there. Already small groups had formed, but the members of the SGC Immortal Strike Team were the most visible. So it was one of them who spoke first. Ramirez. The oldest member of the Strike Team.

"Greetings and salutations to one and all. I am Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez. Some of you know me. Some do not. That is not important at the moment, however. I have been asked to introduce the one responsible for calling all of us together. Tok'Ra."

In the crowd, only Nefertiri understood the Egyptian sense of the name. One who is against Ra. And then she felt it. As did everyone in the clearing. A small tickle that to many of them would signal the nearness of another Immortal. But this tickle grew and grew till it nearly overwhelmed their senses. The Quickening they were feeling was that of Tok'Ra, a being more than five hundred thousand years in age. The sheer strength of the Quickening drove many of the younger Immortals to their knees. Some collapsed outright. But then they saw Tok'Ra. A gaseous mass of glowing energy that surrounded them all. Tok'Ra's Quickening mingled with their own in a way they never thought possible. Then he spoke.

"Hello to all. I am Tok'Ra. He who is against Ra. I was old when your ancestors were still swinging through trees. This world is my birthplace. I am the culmination of five hundred thousand years of Immortal evolution. There is no Game and there is no Prize. Those are two parts of a sick joke, played on all of you by a crazed mortal that knew of your existence. There is absolutely no truth whatsoever to that lie. And now you see before you what you will eventually evolve into. In a few hundred thousand years or so. There is a second lie that has been perpetrated on all of you. You can have children. Millennia ago, myself and others of my kind sought a way to propagate our species. We manipulated the chain of life that you call DNA. In one mortal woman out of every hundred thousand, there exists the potential to give birth to an Immortal, or to one who will become Immortal. This is why there are only so many potential Immortals born each year. It may be decades before another is born with the potential to become an Immortal.

"Furthermore, if a woman becomes Immortal, it was an accident of our manipulations that she becomes barren. I can fix that, if the woman in question so desires the correction. Any pairing of Immortal male and female will produce an Immortal offspring. In any pairing of Immortal male with mortal female, there exists the potential to create an Immortal offspring, though the odds on that pairing are one in one hundred thousand. And no, as an Immortal male, you can not sense the potential in a female to bear Immortal children. It was something we, myself and five other Ancients, wrote into your genetic code. You seem surprised. Do you think that all Immortals are created by magic or science? No. This was done to allow your species to procreate, but to not allow you to overwhelm the mortals with whom you share a planet.

"And now, the reason for this Gathering. Some of you are quite old, by mortal standards. Some quite young. But all of you now face an enemy that seeks to wipe out all life on this planet. Sure, you will survive such an onslaught. But once the enemy learns that you have survived, they will do everything in their power, to destroy you. This enemy; they believe themselves to be Gods. Once, they lived on this world, ten thousand years ago. They came here and they enslaved the primitive mortals, and took them to various other worlds around the universe. Primitive man eventually rebelled and pushed them off the planet. And for a time they forgot you were here. Now they have become aware of this world again. Some of you already stand alongside the mortals in their fight. Now all of you must fight. Or help.

"I have pledged my existence to their fight. I am charging you with the creation of an Immortal nation, with a governing council. When that is done, I will turn over my technologies to you on the condition you use them for good and that you share them, gradually, with the mortals on this world, and with their allies, if so requested. Will you do this? I will return in three days to hear your answer."

And with that, Tok'Ra, representative of the Ancients, vanished, leaving bewildered Immortals looking at one another. It was Ramirez who spoke first.

"Friends. We have been given a great gift. A gift we must use wisely. As Tok'Ra mentioned, some of us are already fighting alongside the mortals. I will introduce you to them. Amanda Darieux. Robert and Gina de Valicourt. Duncan MacLeod. Peter Sennes. Cassandra. Cierdwyn. Myself. And Alex Phillipson, our squad leader. Methos…yes, _that_ Methos. He serves on another team, made up entirely of mortals, one of which is an alien. Now. Let us relax. We are on Holy Ground. There will be no fighting here. Let us eat. Let us drink. And let us discuss the formation of an Immortal country."

A speechless Immortal. Who would've thought it? But a whole passé of speechless Immortals? Could such a thing ever happen again? Yet here they were. Hundreds of speechless Immortals all in the same place. Marius moved first, towards his group of old friends; Constantine, Karros, and Hamza. They moved off to the side and sat in front of a roaring fire. And talked.

"Is what the God said true Marius?"

"He's not a God, Palos. He is one of us, just slightly more mature."

"To him, we must seem as babes in the woods."

"We are, Hamza. He sees us as his children. What right do we have to deny our 'father' what he believes is best for us? And if what he said is true, then we all have the chance to be fathers. I, for one, have always wished to raise a child of mine own. Tell me that none of you have wished for the same. An heir. And to think that we may have sired an heir or three, that they were not raised by our hands, that they may have been killed by others of our kind. To think that I might have fought someone who might have been my child. The thought is sobering, dear friends. I think my path is clear. I will do whatever is necessary to establish our new country. We owe it to ourselves to try."

"I will stand with you. I am Lucas Desiree. My friends and I wanted to share your fire. We knew that all of you were elders to us and we wanted to ask your opinion of the evening's event. But I for one have heard all that you have just said. And I will stand with you."

"As will I. Constantine, I may never forget what has happened between us, but I think in time I can forgive you."

"Nefertiri, you may be able to forgive me, yet I doubt I will ever forgive myself for all the pain I caused you."

"Will you stand by your friend in his attempt to build a future for our kind?"

"I will, Nefertiri."

"Then I add my voice to his."

Around the clearing, others were saying the same thing. Without realizing it, Marius had spoken quite loudly in his fervor. His comments had been heard by all of the Immortals present, save for Methos who had already made his decision. Whether any one else supported him or not, he would do what was necessary to form an Immortal Nation.

Even those who had broken many mortal laws were swayed by Marius' comments. Particularly those about the possibility that they had taken the head of their own child. The other comments would not ever be remembered in their entirety, but that one would. For all time. As Nefertiri pledged her voice to Marius' own, other Immortals in the crowd did as well until the clearing was awash with Immortals swearing oaths to try in hundreds if not thousands of different languages.

Then came the hard part. Who would serve on this council? What criteria would they use? Would an Immortal 'run for office' like a mortal? Or would there be a set of criteria decided upon before one could even serve.

"Marius! Your words moved us to act! Have you an idea how we will accomplish our task?"

"I do. But you may not like it. We are few. Our numbers are less than a thousand. How do we determine who serves? I for one, have no desire to lead, yet I do wish to build. There was a man in ancient Rome, Cincinatus. He had no desire to serve, no desire to lead. He wished to be left alone on his estate to grow food and to pursue his studies. But his writings brought him to the attention of the Senate and the Emperor. They asked him to serve, to lead. He did so, on the condition that it was for a fixed period of time and when his time was done, he could return to the private life and not be called upon again. An idea I have tried to follow, with some small success, since I spoke to him.

"So here are my thoughts on the matter. First off, a term of service on the council would last a bit longer than that of mortal governments. So perhaps a term of one century? We can discuss that at a later time. I think the method of how we choose is just as important as how long our choices stay in power. I would not want to campaign for a position on the council. Maybe a thousand years from now, when our numbers have grown somewhat, we could do that. But for now, the only way I can see that would be fair to everyone here, would be by a lottery.

"I need a few volunteers. To take a census of all those present here. Just a name, an approximate age, and a place of birth, to the best of your recollection, that is. Once we know how many of us there are, we can set up the lottery. I think seven is a good number. A smaller number would make it to easy to pass all sorts of strange laws. A larger number would make it difficult to pass any laws."

"Seven sounds like a good number to me Marius."

"It does, doesn't it Methos?"

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_**Cydonia Planitia, Mars**_

The base on Mars had proven more than adequate to house all of the survivors of the Twelve worlds. There were multiple levels of dormitories that stretched for miles and miles beneath the surface of Mars. When the Zero Point Energy generators had been activated by Tok'Ra, a second set of generators had come to full power. These were generating massive amounts of carbon dioxide to thicken the atmosphere, and a pair of torsional generators deep in the core that would gradually, over the period of several centuries, bring the gravitational pull of the planet to that of a near Earth standard.

Automated sensors located at various points along the surface were monitoring the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. They were waiting for the right levels to be reached before releasing algae, a form of plant life that could live on a straight diet of carbon dioxide and one that would excrete oxygen in return. Additionally, small oxygen generators located at the poles would begin pumping out minute amounts of oxygen. Not enough to create an atmosphere overnight, but enough to help out the algae and their task of creating a viable biosphere. It was not a project to be taken lightly, this converting a world; terraforming. Something that would take at best a decade to accomplish.

Within the two moons, Phobos and Deimos, long dormant systems had come on-line. Surveillance towers emerged from the two moons, along with a series of long range communications arrays. These were followed by automated long and median range heavy plasma cannons. Over the course of a pair of hours, the two moons had become fortresses.

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_**Stargate Command**_

General Hammond was startled to hear his phone ring; his red phone. After a short and to the point conversation, he placed a call on his STU-VI to Colonel O'Neill. An hour later, SG-1, in its entirety, was standing in the main conference room.

"At ease people. An hour ago, I received a rather interesting call from the President."

"Oh?"

"He has been nominally aware of the mission of the SGC since taking office late last year, but he had been unaware of the full import of what we have been doing. He has had other things on his mind as you well know. But the important thing is that the Director of Central Intelligence, his Deputy Director of Operations, and the head of a multi-national anti-terrorist organization are on their way here. They are expected in three hours."

"Sir?"

"President Ryan has directed the CIA to assign us a number of civilian intelligence specialists to help us with the Goa'uld problem. Their Operations director wants to meet with her Tok'Ra counterpart to discuss the possibility of using CIA field officers off-world."

"Really. What about this anti-terror guy?"

"Brigadier General John Clark is coming along with the Foleys. He is the head of an organization called Rainbow. A multi-national anti-terrorist organization. These folks are the ones that dealt with those terrorists at the Spanish amusement park earlier this year."

"That was a class act. Clark you said sir?"

"Yes. As I said, they will arrive in a little over three hours. Colonel, I expect you to meet them at the airfield and bring them down here. I have a conference call about the same time with General Vidrine that I can't get out of."

"Dress uniform sir?"

"I think that would be best, Colonel. SG-1 you are on stand down for one month. Enjoy your time off. Dismissed."

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_**Three hours later – Peterson Air Force Base**_

"Director Foley, I presume?"

"That would be me."

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, sir. General Hammond sends his regrets that he was unable to meet you in person. I am to escort you and your party to the SGC. This way please."

"You are Hammond's second in command?"

"Correct sir."

"That would make you a simulated Brigadier General, correct?"

"Correct sir."

"Interesting."

The conversation halted at that statement until some tens of minutes later when O'Neill had seated them in the conference room, the blast doors to the embarkation room in the down position.

"I understand Colonel, that you have an alien on your team?"

"Correct Mrs. Foley. The alien is named Teal'c. He used to be the First Prime for Apophis, which is their equivalent of General. But their rank system is rather limited. All of their soldiers are Jaffa. All Jaffa have a tattoo on their foreheads that indicates their allegiance to a particular system lord. The first prime has the same tattoo, but instead of ink it's done in gold."

"That has to hurt."

"I'm sure it does. Airman, ask Teal'c to report to the conference room."

"Sir!"

----------------------------------------

"You sent for me O'Neill."

"I did. These fine people wished to meet you. Director Ed Foley, Deputy Director Mary Patricia Foley, and General John Clark. May I present Teal'c, one of two resident aliens at the SGC."

"Two resident aliens?"

"Yes sir. There is also Jonas Quinn, late of Kelowna and currently assigned as linguist to SG-4. Mr. Quinn is responsible for obtaining naquadria for the SGC."

"Is he available?"

"No sir. SG-4 is currently off-world. They are due to return tomorrow I believe."

"Teal'c, you appear to be quite young to be this First Prime that Colonel O'Neill has described."

"Indeed. My symbiote keeps me in perfect health, however I am 92 of your years in age."

"Oh wow."

"Indeed."

"And you were the leader of an Army?"

"I was First Prime to Apophis. It is a role I am not proud of."

"What is your opinion of the Goa'uld?"

"They pretend to be Gods in order to enslave billions of people in the universe. But their arrogance shall be their undoing. They believe no one except another System Lord can threaten them. They fail to realize what the Tau'ri can accomplish when pressed."

It was the most that Jack had ever heard from Teal'c at one time. And while Jack was busily picking his jaw up from the floor, General Hammond walked in.

"I must apologize for not being able to meet you at Peterson, however, I was in conference with General Vidrine and the Pentagon. Something about our allies wanting to each put up one squadron worth of pilots to serve aboard one of the battlecruisers."

"They can join the club General. Vice President Jackson got those same marching orders from Jack Ryan not five hours ago. The reason we are here however, is to examine your intelligence gathering operations."

"I see. And General Clark? Why are you here?"

"To examine your security methods and to provide additional security for any visiting dignitaries."

"Our SG teams and the SFs we have at this facility are more than capable of providing security for this facility and any dignitaries, but we always welcome constructive criticism."

"I would also like to examine your training program."

"Of course. Colonel?"

"Sir?"

"Perhaps you and Captain Pierson would show General Clark our training facility."

"General Clark, will it be just you or?"

"One of my Rainbow teams should be arriving late this evening. I would like them to accompany us, if at all possible."

"It's possible. Will they be bringing their own gear?"

"Yes. Standard force deployment."

"Very good. I will inform Captain Pierson of the pending mission sir."

"Very good. Dismissed Colonel."

"Sir!"

-----------------------------------------

_**Office of General Hammond**_

"General Clark? Or is it Kelly?"

"I thought that was you George. It's been a long time since 'Nam."

"It sure as hell has. Why the name change?"

"Agency did it. I had some bad folks after me stateside. John Kelly had to die."

"Well, in any case, if your troops are half as good as you were, then I feel better about them being here."

"They're different from the types we had in 3rd SOG, but they're good. Very good. So whatever happened to your sidekick?"

"Sidekick? Oh, you mean Jake?"

"Yeah. Captain Carter, I think it was. You were a lieutenant back then."

"Captain Carter is now Major General Carter. He's currently off-world. He's our ambassador to the Tok'ra."

"Those would be the Goa'uld resistance?"

"Yep. And that blonde major you met earlier? That's his daughter. She was a one-time host to a Tok'ra named Jolinar."

"You keep in touch with AJ?"

"Not as much as I'd like. Haven't seen him in something like ten years. Last I heard he was on the east coast."

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_**Military transport, enroute from Andrews to Peterson AFB**_

"Ding, you know why Six wants us in Colorado?"

"No idea Oso. All he said was standard deployment package. Something about checking security for some event."

"Well, it'll be a change from England. Maybe we can get out and see some real trees?"

"Maybe Oso."

Privately Domingo Chavez was concerned. All that Alistair had told him was to take his team to Colorado and to be prepared for a long deployment, possibly as long as six months. His team had a good portion of their gear with them. Oso had his '60, and the rest of them had their MP-5Ns. As far as he knew, there was no major governmental facilities in Colorado except for NORAD, and he guessed that they had their own competent security teams. There was no intelligence to go over. No plans to study. Tim Noonan was as much lost as he was. His contacts at the FBI building knew nothing when he called them shortly after their British Airways flight landed at Dulles.

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_**Elsewhere in Colorado**_

The lottery for council positions had proceeded without incident and now the seven chosen ones for the first council were preparing to meet. The were from as varied backgrounds as one could imagine with their Immortality being, for the most part, their only common factor. Michelle Webster, Kassim, Hamza ibn Mohammed, Grace Chandler, Mako, Carl Robinson, and Marius Augustus had been chosen. Of those chosen, Marius was by far the oldest. His comrades on the council voted unanimously to name him President of the Immortal Council. Their first task was to create a set of principles by which they would all live. They would base the Principles on codes of law that were both ancient and modern. And once they were done, they recommended the approval of these Principles by all of the Immortals, which after some discussion and open debate, the vote was affirmative. Marius called Methos with the news.

"Pierson."

"Hello old one."

"Marco. How are things going there?"

"They have gone well. We have chosen a council and I have been named President of the council."

"Congratulations! A better man I can not imagine."

"We have also written and voted on a set of principles. All Immortals here have pledged to uphold the Principles."

"That is excellent news! Please inform squad leader Phillipson that we require his team back at the mountain."

"I will pass that along right now. We will meet with your father and discuss the technology transfer."

"Good. I have to play tour guide for the next few days."

"Affirmative. Have fun."

"You too."

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_**In another part of the galaxy**_

"My Lord."

"Speak Jaffa."

"A report from our scouts in Tau'ri space. They claim a large number of ships are in orbit about the fourth planet. A lot of activity in hyperspace in that system."

"How many ships do they report?"

"Several hundred large vessels and approximately the same number of small craft they believe to be fighters. There are also two ships in orbit around the Tau'ri home world. The scouts report they resemble Asgard vessels, but are much smaller. The vessel description they sent matches the partial description we received from Lord Zipacna prior to his disappearance."

"Order the scouts returned as quickly as possible. Order all ships made ready for departure."

"At once my Lord!"

He looked like all those mythological images of the Grim Reaper. All that was missing was the scythe. He sat alone on his throne. But he was not alone in the room. There was another there.

"Hello!"

"Jaffa! Kree!"

"Your servants can not hear you. I have sealed the room. The reports of these ships you have found, they match a race of people I seek."

"You dare to defile my throne room! I shall have you killed! Slowly!"

"Come now. There is no need for that. I can deliver these Tau'ri to you. I can raise you to King over all System Lords."

"And what do you require for these gifts?"

"Your assistance in a small matter. My followers and I have pursued a race of humanoids across this universe to this place. They will join forces with yours to eradicate this menace to my Empire."

"And if we choose not to assist you?"

"Then my followers will destroy you. I await your answer."

"What is your name?"

"I have many names. My followers call me Creator. Others call me Count Iblis."

"You are not Goa'uld."

"No. I am of the race you call the Ancients."

"You are unlike any Ancient we have ever encountered."

"What is your answer?"

"No. We will not assist you."

"You shall regret this day! My people will take from you everything! We shall crush the Goa'uld Hegemony and eradicate you and your brethren from existence! However, if you beg enough, I may deign to offer you a second chance."

And he vanished. Fading into nothingness before the amused eyes of Anubis. His First Prime returned to his throne room and reported one of their Ha'tak motherships under attack at the edge of Anubis' empire. Under attack by ships with no living creatures aboard. Anubis seethed with visible anger. With a sweeping movement, he ordered five Shral'ka class motherships to the aid of the one Ha'tak. And he ordered samples of this new enemy brought before him. With a motion of his hand he dismissed his Jaffa and moved to his vo'cume to speak with his under lords.

----------------------------------------

_**SGC, 0800 hrs**_

In the very early morning hours, the Rainbow team had arrived. They were escorted to the BOQ on Peterson and allowed to get a few hours of sleep before a 0700 wake-up call. A leisurely breakfast was followed by a short trip to Cheyenne Mountain. The Rainbow troopers exited their SUVs to find General Clark waiting for them along with two Air Force officers, one colonel and one captain.

"Major Chavez, reporting as ordered sir!"

"At ease, Ding. Major Domingo Chavez, allow me to introduce Colonel Jack O'Neill and Captain Adam Pierson. Colonel, Captain, this is Major Domingo Chavez, team leader for Team One Rainbow."

"Why are we here sir?"

"Jack asked us to look over the security of this facility and the training center for this facility."

"Jack asked? Well, then we'll do the best we can."

"Good. Follow me."

The Rainbow team followed Colonel O'Neill and Captain Pierson into the mountain and down the elevator to Level 26 to the conference room overlooking the embarkation room.

"General Clark, I'd like to start our little tour with our training facility. I see the your men are carrying MP-5Ns. A good weapon, however we prefer the FN-P90s. The FN is the standard weapon for all SG teams."

"Why the FN over the MP?"

"Higher rate of fire and a larger magazine, and less of a tendency to rise up when firing on full auto. That plus a lighter weight of the gun and the magazine makes it our weapon of choice."

"Ok. So where is this training facility?"

As Major Chavez asked this question, Pierson stood up and went to the wall and pressed a button. The blast shield rose up and suddenly they were all looking at this massive ring within a ring. And the instant the blast shield was fully raised, alert klaxons began blaring throughout the facility as a voice announced an off-world activation. Seven chevrons lit up along the periphery of the ring and a vortex of what looked like water rushed out the front and back of the ring. Metal leaves irised closed over the water like surface for a moment while a signal was received and checked by the base computers. Finding a match with the GDO signal for SG-5, the iris opened and a few seconds later, four men walked through the water and down the ramp.

"Perfect timing. That gentlemen, is the Stargate. We'll use that to get to the training facility."

"Your facility is located where exactly?"

"General Clark, our training facility is off-world."

"And the only way to get to the facility is through this gate, yes?"

"From Earth, yes, that is correct. However, the training facility is available from any other world with a Stargate, and that includes any enemy world."

"Ok, how about we check security here first then?"

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_**White House Conference Room**_

_**Teleconference joined in progress**_

"...yes President Grushavoy, that is correct. I wish to invite all of you to the White House. We will make our treaty public at that time."

"Mr. President, my advisor Sergei Golovko, has recommended we accept this treaty. But I have a question for you."

"Ask anything you like, sir, but there's no guarantee that I have an answer for you."

"I see. My question is, how can we guarantee an equal exchange of technology? What I mean is, how do we know that the other party, either these Colonials or these Ancients, do not hold back?"

"I can't answer that Mr. President. I am going by what my Ambassador has reported in regards to his perceptions of our potential allies. He believes we can trust them and so I will do the same."

"Sir John, I for one will be arriving the day after tomorrow. I look forward to seeing your lovely family again."

"Of course your Highness. I'm certain my family feels the same way."

"Monsieur President, I too will arrive in two days time. I look forward to hearing how your staff and mine will tell the world of these events."

"I'm certain that it will be an interesting press conference."

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_**Oval Office, Two days later**_

"Mr. President, the President of the Immortal Council, sir."

"Send him in."

"Good morning Mr. President."

"And to you as well. Please, have a seat sir."

"Thank you Mr. President. And please, call me Marco."

"May I ask a bit about you? Unlike any other person that comes in here, the security agencies could not find out anything about you beyond the fact that you currently serve with Stargate Command. I am understandably curious."

"And a professor of history I believe."

"That too."

"Very well then. I was born two thousand five hundred and ninety eight years ago at a time when the Roman Empire was still the world's foremost power. I served as a General in her armies. I was Gaius Marius Augustus, Commander of the Armies of the West, and General of the Prima Legion. I served the Empire well. At least I believe I did. My first death was in battle, and I was laid to rest in a shallow grave. When my body had healed and I managed to claw my way out of the ground, I found another of my kind standing over me. That was Juan Sanchez Villalobos Ramirez, and he was my teacher and mentor. As deaths go, it could have been worse."

"I'm not sure I want to imagine worse."

"After that, I stayed in what would become Spain for a few centuries, fighting in the occasional war, and changing my identity every fifty to sixty years or so. By necessity, we Immortals had to do that or else we faced being accused of sorcery. Believe me sir, being burnt at the stake once was one too many times for me."

"Uhm."

"When the call came for explorers to head west across the Atlantic, I went. I didn't come across with Columbus on his first voyage, but I was part of the crew on the second journey. I jumped ship in the 'New World' and made my way to the mainland. I've been here ever since. I was a rifleman in your Revolutionary War. I was a pilot in both world wars. Missed out on Vietnam because the Air Force needed a researcher, not a pilot. Been with the Air Force ever since."

"I was led to believe Immortals did not like government service because of the potential of being found out."

"Actually sir, that's mostly true. But having been around for so long, well, let me just say that I can create papers that would fool your secret service agent there, even if she did a detailed examination."

"What about that Andrea?"

"Sir. I don't believe him sir."

"Please, agent, take this set and examine them. Perform as detailed a search as you can in say, one hour?"

"Mr. President?"

"I'd say that was a challenge, Andrea. What do we get if she and the Service prove the papers are false?"

"I'll equip yourself, Agent Price and five people of her choice with personal force fields, guaranteed to stop anything fired by anything made on this planet. But if she can't prove the papers are false, well, I'll come up with something."

"Sounds fair, sir."

"Take his papers, Andrea, and get your people started."

The two leaders, both men who did not want the job to which they were now in, discussed a number of items over the ensuing hour from laws governing Immortals to the proposed trade agreement, to a request by the Immortal Council for a homeland to call their own. At the end of the hour, a Secret Service agent came in with the requested information and presented it to President Ryan and Agent Price.

"Sir, this is what we found on one Mario Agustino. Parents were Jose Maria and Dolores Araceli Agustino, both of Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico. Emigrated to the US in '67 and their only son, Mario was born in El Paso, in 1969. We managed to pull his records from high school where he excelled in science and math and lettered in a number of sports. Attended Texas A&M University where he received advanced degrees in physics and mathematics. Currently on sabbatical from his research position at Los Alamos National Laboratory."

"Have you spoken to anyone who knows him?"

"Yes sir. One of the agents spoke briefly with his fourth grade teacher who remembered him as a curious and intuitive child. Another agent spoke with his senior counselor at his high school who had nothing but good things to say about Mr. Agustino. An agent also spoke with one of his co-workers who believes him to be a diligent worker with an eye for trying new ways of solving problems."

"Thank you Agent."

"Well Agent Price?"

"We only had an hour. A deep background check can take months."

"True. But in an hour, you have proven that my second set of papers are just as 'real' as my regular set."

"He has a point Andrea. I think we'll be safe in admitting defeat just this once."

"As you say, Mr. President."

"So, Marco. You never did say what would happen if she couldn't prove them false."

"No I didn't. You still get the protective fields. But I want one favor, and while it may not be in your power to grant such a favor, I only ask that you try."

"Name it."

"As I mentioned in our discussions earlier, the Immortal Council would like to establish a homeland. However, we have agreed that any such homeland on Earth might imply that we are aligned with whatever country gives up a portion of its territory. Therefore, we would like to have an agreement recognized by international treaty that the Immortal homeland will be on the Earth's Moon."

"The moon?"

"Yes. We will establish a colony there using the Ancient's technology. We will export certain items to Earth in exchange for basic foodstuffs and vital gases. At least until we can build what we need to grow our own foods and distill our own life giving gases. Furthermore, this treaty will grant us sole ownership of the Moon. Anyone wishing to emigrate there, may do so, with the consent of their home country and of the Immortal Council."

"I will do what I can to grant this favor."

"That is all I ask."

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_**Two weeks later**_

_**Press Room, White House, Washington, DC. Earth**_

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the press, the President of the United States."

"Good evening. There are a number of things I need to say. Before I do, however, I would like to introduce my guests at the podium with me. His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales. President Chirac of France. Premier Xu of China. President Grushavoy of Russia. The other two guests here shall remain nameless for a few more minutes, until I explain the events of the past few weeks. In order to do so, I ask some leeway while I give you a bit of a history lesson.

"Some years ago, a man by the name of Dr. Daniel Jackson published his thesis in which he claimed that our civilization was a result of ancient visitations by space-fairing aliens. At the time he was laughed out of academia and that would have been the end of the story had it not been for another doctor in government employ. She saw the potential in Doctor Jackson and hired him for a project the Air Force was running at the time. He did in two weeks what seventy years of archaeologists could not do. He translated an artifact that had been discovered on the Giza plateau in Egypt in 1928.

"His translation opened a doorway to a bold new frontier. Now, nearly a decade later, we have made numerous advances and have made numerous allies. And we have made enemies. I see a look of bewilderment on many of your faces. The artifact in question is called a Stargate and because we were successful in deciphering its usage, members of our Air Force and Marine Corps routinely travel to planets all over the universe. Two of the men standing behind me are from other worlds.

"Very recently, using techniques of reverse engineering of captured alien space ships, the Air Force launched two space going vessels. It was during tests of the first vessel, the _Prometheus_, that our forces encountered a refugee fleet of survivors of the Twelve Worlds. Their leader, President Tigh, is this gentleman standing behind me. Their civilization had been nearly wiped out by a race of cybernetic beings whose only goal has been the extermination of all human life in the universe.

"After a successful negotiation between their government and the five permanent members of the Security Council, they will be allowed to settle on Mars and to terraform it to their needs. However, this is not the only news I must impart this evening. As I mentioned a moment ago, we have made allies out in the stars. One of these allies call themselves the Tok'ra. Our liaison with the Tok'ra is General Jacob Carter, of the US Air Force. He is the gentleman to my far left. Next to him is Chancellor Garshaw, President of the Tok'ra Alliance. It was a result of a meeting between our forces and those of the Tok'ra, that we discovered a second race living amongst us. They are not alien. They look like you and me. They evolved like we did, but at some point in the distant past, their 'branch' of the evolutionary tree went along a different path. Outwardly, they are indistinguishable from any other human on Earth. Inwardly, as well, there are no differences, or at least none that they are willing to discuss. Their President, Gaius Marius Augustus, is standing to the right of me. On behalf of his people and himself, I have spoken with the other members of the Security Council and have ceded to them, control of the Moon as their homeland."

The speech continued at length for another thirty minutes as the President told all of the SGC and the fight with the Goa'uld. Of the _Galactica_ns and their advanced technology. Of the Ancients and their 'off-spring', the Immortals and their advanced technologies. And in a non-descript apartment in Georgetown, a neighborhood in Washington, D.C., a man turned to the man and two women he was sitting with and stated with triumph, 'See! I told you aliens exist! Never thought the government would admit to it however.' And elsewhere, in a dark and smoky room, another man exclaimed, 'This alters our plans. The timetable must be accelerated. These Goa'uld must not be allowed to interfere with Colonization.'

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_**One week later**_

_**England, Watcher's Council**_

"On behalf of the Immortal Council, I bid you greetings. We are grateful for this opportunity to speak to your Council. There is no doubt that you, of all people on this world, have amassed the most complete history of Immortality on the planet. For that we are in your debt. I know that you have a Watcher assigned to me. I have known some of my Watchers over the centuries; I have even married a few of them. That is in the past, however. I have a few requests to make. I know that you have an impressive library bearing the chronicles of all the Immortals that have ever lived. Those documents are clearly yours. I would request, however, a copy be made available to our new colony. In return, I will allow all currently assigned Watchers to immigrate to the colony, on the condition that they contribute in some way to the construction and day to day maintenance of the colony. Furthermore, as you may be aware, I have managed to keep my estate in southern Spain. The estate was left to me by my parents, some twenty-six hundred years ago. It is not large, only a mere thousand acres. I have had a caretaker crew come in once a month to make sure the property is in good repair.

"I will allow you to use this facility in Spain, provided you can restore some semblance of order to the vineyards and bring the production of wine up to a self-supportive level. Another property is also available for your usage as a retreat. Ten thousand acres in the hill country in Texas. As I will be moving to the moon, these properties will need caretakers. Since the Watchers have known of our existence since nearly the beginning, I am asking you to administer them for me. Odds are, there are others who would ask the same of you. You may deliver your answer through Joe Dawson. In the meantime, I will be returning to my home in Colorado. I thank you for your attention in this matter, and I bid you good day."

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_**San Francisco, California**_

Marius had already been to his brokers and had arranged for his moneys to be transferred to a bank in Colorado Springs. He was still a member of the SGC, but now he would be based on Luna with the new colony they were building there. With the assistance of the SGC's shuttle fleet and a number of Colonial shuttles, they had lifted enough materials up to the lunar surface to begin construction of a single dome. The first dome would be a base for construction of other domes. A construction shack for the initial phase of development. Marco's force field generators were already in place and would protect the construction crews as they built the first dome. Duncan MacLeod had asked that it be named for a former student of his, and so it would become Dome Ryan.

In twenty-six hundred plus years of life, he would never have imagined living anywhere but on Earth. Now he would soon be living on Luna. Such a strange twist fate has given him. Things had changed radically for Immortals since the press conference two weeks previously. A resolution had been passed by Congress and signed into law by the President in record time. It gave protection from persecution to all Immortals as long as they obeyed the laws of the land. So long as they were good upstanding citizens, they would be protected from 'witch hunts'. The law made it a federal crime, punishable by lethal injection, for anyone who kidnapped an Immortal for purposes of experimentation.

Just now he was sitting in a coffee shop enjoying a good brew. A few patrons were looking at him, like they might have recognized him from the many interviews he'd given over the past two weeks. He could well imagine what it was like for them. Thinking they recognized him from somewhere, but unable to remember where. Well, he wasn't going to fill them in. Then he felt it. Just the barest of tingling buzz. A pre-Immortal. Coming up the walk-way towards the coffee shop. Though a pre-Immortal could not feel an Immortal, they are drawn to Immortals. They seek them out, whether to serve as protectors or friends is unknown. Over the centuries he had raised several pre-Immortals, and he had always prayed and hoped that they would never become full Immortal. Theirs was a solitary life. It was exceedingly rare for two Immortals to marry, and if they did, it was a marriage doomed to failure in the end. Of course, now that the Prize had proven false, such marriages would no longer be so doomed.

But enough of that line of thought. Who was this pre-immie? The buzz of a pre-immie was so faint that only an Immortal in close proximity could detect it. Her. It was that woman. She was with another. The man was familiar though he could not figure out why. He watched from the corner of his peripheral vision. The two of them purchased coffees and made to sit at an adjacent table. Then it came to him where he had seen the man before. An anchor on the local news.

"Excuse me. This may sound trite, but aren't you that reporter, the one that gave that story on Immortals a couple nights ago?"

"Yes. I am."

"I thought as much. An excellent performance you gave, if in no way factual. Before you seek to report on the goings on of Immortals, it might be wise to check your facts. "

"Are you one of them?"

"Something like that. Suffice to say, your reports as to the creation of Immortals is as bogus as the universe is immense. I understand ratings and all that, but at least try to be factual in your reports."

"I know you. I've seen you somewhere. I know it."

"I've been on numerous television news programs over the past two weeks."

"Yes! I knew it. You're that Immortal. Marius Augustus. President of the Immortal Council."

"Correct."

"If I recall correctly, you've been around for a few decades."

"Long enough to have a different perspective of history."

"That's all you can say?"

"What more should I say? I lived. I died. I lived. And I've been alive since then."

"So much history you've seen. Is there anything that stands out?"

"The twentieth century. You have to understand. For centuries, if you wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, you walked. Or rode a horse. Or rode in a horse drawn cart. If you wanted to cross an ocean, you did so by sailing ship. In the past hundred years, you've gone from a primitive aero-plane that flew a few hundred feet to a rocket that sent three men to the moon. You've gone from ships that used sails to ships that use nuclear power. You've gone from sending someone a telegram to deliver the news to watching the news on cable. Two centuries ago, had I mentioned any of these ideas, I would have been locked up as a lunatic, or burned at the stake as a witch."

"Such is the price of intellectual freedom."

"Perhaps. I am most grateful to the Fates that I have survived this long."

"Perhaps you will grant me an interview? Course, the person I really want to speak with is Doctor Daniel Jackson. His story, the man who opened the Stargate for the world, that's the one that needs to be told."

"Well now, if you do as bad a job on my interview as you did on your so-called expose the other night, I'm fairly certain I'll say no. And as far as Daniel is concerned, I can tell you right now, the answer is no."

"Why not let him be the judge of that?"

"'Cause you, sir, seem to be an opportunistic slime of a reporter. I dare not subject Daniel to your kind of reporting."

"Fine then. Tell me where I went wrong the other night?"

"You stated that Immortals are a recent thing, that we've only been here a few decades. You categorically denied than any of us could have been around at say, the Inquisition. You interviewed a priest that called us abominations in the eyes of God, that all men are destined to live only so many years before their final judgment, and that since we can never die, we will never face that to atone for our sins. You even went so far as to speculate that we were created in Petri dishes during the human experimentation period by the Nazis."

"Yeah, so what part of that was wrong? That's what the information I located indicated."

"One: We are not a recent thing. You asked if I'd been around for a few decades. Try millennia. I've just turned 2598. By the standards of my kind, my race, I'm considered young. As for my being an abomination in the eyes of God, well, perhaps I should have asked Simon before he was crucified if he or his mentor believed me to be an abomination. Don't know that name do you? Go ask your priest, the one who called us evil. As to being created in Petri dishes by the Nazis. That sir, I find most distasteful. If you were an honorable sort, I'd challenge you to a duel right now, but as I highly doubt you have any sort of honor, such a challenge would be wasted. I fought in your damned world wars against the Germans!"

"I see. So, I was wrong. What do you want? An apology? A retraction? Never gonna happen."

"Your admission to me that you were wrong is enough. Good day sir!"

Marco walked out of the coffee shop, his head full of anger at the sheer stupidity of some mortals. But he felt the immature signature of a pre-Immortal coming up behind him. He turned and saw the young woman that had been seated with the reporter. The idiot who had it all wrong.

"Hey! Sorry for my friend in there. To be honest I'm not sure what I saw in the guy. Never realized he was such an ass."

"You must be more careful of those whom you choose to be with Miss. Men like him have been there throughout history. I've found that there are two types of men in the world. Those who say 'You go!' and those who say 'Follow me!', and of those two types, I much prefer the latter, for they are invariably leaders. Though oft times, they are misguided leaders."

"Wow. Ok. Well, let me make it up to you? Let me buy you dinner?"

"I would never allow such a beautiful woman to buy my dinner for me. But you could allow me to create a meal for you?"

"I think I …"

"Oh dang it! Tonight is out of the question. I'm attending a small gathering for friends."

"Afraid I might be scared off by your friends?"

"Not at all. Care to attend?"

She stopped to think on that for a few seconds before answering him. This man, this Immortal, was very handsome. It made her tingle with a type of desire she had never felt in her lifetime. If only she could settle these butterflies in her stomach! She felt like a giddy school girl! Her brain might have said otherwise at the moment, but her heart told her that this man was the one for her.

"Meet me at my hotel at seven-ish. We'll go from there."

"Yes. I will see you at seven."

"Very well then. Here is the name of my hotel. I will see you then."

"I'm familiar with it."

"One question first, if I may?"

"Anything."

"Might I have the honor of knowing thy name?"

"Oh my! How thoughtless of me! Piper Halliwell."

"Marco Ramos. At your service."

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Marius left the coffee shop and went directly to a local farmer's market. One of his past 'lives' had been as a chef in both France and Italy. Tonight's gathering was to be a pot-luck meal hosted by Hamza, and Marius planned a meal that would leave the others salivating for more. Next to science, cooking was his greatest love. As he shopped, his train of thought was interrupted by a voice behind him. It was Miss Halliwell.

"How does it feel?"

"Excuse me? How does what feel?"

"To see so many lives pass before you. Over the passage of centuries, surely you must have been close to someone. It must be difficult knowing that you will outlive them."

"Which is why most Immortals tend to make friendships with other Immortals. But I have had numerous friendships, nay, even relationships with mortals. Some of those are my most treasured memories. The one friendship I thought I had lost five centuries ago has been renewed. My old friend and teacher, whom I hope will be joining us this evening."

"Is he as old as you?"

"About three hundred years older."

"Is he the one the news media are calling the oldest Immortal?"

"Not hardly. Ramirez is just shy of three millennia. The Elder is just over ten millennia."

"Ten thousand? Wow. To have seen so much history!"

"Maybe, but he acts like he's only a twenty-something. In any case, he will join us tonight. He serves on the same team with Dr. Jackson."

"Tell me about Dr. Jackson. Other than his archaeological works, not much is known about him."

"I'm afraid you'd have to ask him about that. It's not my place to discuss his history."

"What about your history? Can you tell me about that?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Have you ever been married?"

"Over the course of two and a half millennia of life, I've had sixty-three wives. Not all at once, mind you."

"Of course not. That would be more than one man could handle."

"I definitely agree. One woman is more than enough. Provided of course, that she is the right woman."

"And what is the right woman?"

"Why not ask me a simpler question, like maybe the meaning of life? The right woman for me, well, that requires little thought. The right woman for me must be intelligent, attractive, witty, and interested."

"Interested? Don't you mean interesting?"

"No. Interested. As in, interested in me. Though her being interesting would be a good thing."

"I see. So, how many degrees do you have? I mean, I assume you do have a few?"

"In modern terms? Approximately one hundred sixteen bachelor's degrees, eighty-nine masters, and eighty-eight doctorates."

"I am impressed. Any other degrees?"

"Nope. Just a few certificates from culinary schools."

"Really? Same here! Ever been a medical doctor?"

"Yes. Medical researcher too."

"Ok. I'm not only impressed, but interested."

"As am I."

While they had been talking, Marius had been picking and choosing fresh produce and excellent steaks for the evening meal. He had an excellent contact in the restaurant industry that provided him with the choicest cuts of beef for the evening's planned pot-luck. In the kitchen, Marius was excellent, but on a grill it was sheer genius. By 1800 that evening, all was ready. The grill had been loaded with mesquite wood and the fire was roaring. Marius knew that the best fire to cook over was coals as it would not char the meat, but allow it to cook slowly and evenly. In an hour, that would be true.

And the company at the moment was beyond excellent. He knew that he wanted to spend an eternity with this woman, but he would not force her change. That would be wrong. She had to come into her Immortality on her own. He would be there when she did.

For her part, she was wondering if a lifetime spent with this man would be enough for her. She had dated others before and those relationships had not worked out. Now she knew that it was all for the best. But she had to thank that fool of a reporter! Had she not been with him, she would never have met Marius. Then again, had President Ryan not made all of this public, she wouldn't have known who Marius was in the first place. So she would send him an invite to the wedding. Whoa. Where did that thought come from? Here she'd only met the man a few hours earlier and she was already planning the guest list for her wedding.

"Everything all right? You seem distracted."

"Oh, just thinking."

"Anything you want to share?"

"Not just yet."

----------------------------------------

An hour later the first guests started to arrive. First were the Immortals currently assigned to the SGC, who could feel the power of Piper's pre-Immortal Quickening. Both Methos and Ramirez spent some time with Piper and both later confirmed to Marius that she was indeed destined to become an Immortal after her first death. But Cassandra also spent time with her and told Marius that what he and the others felt was not a pre-Immortal signature but something altogether different. It was a feeling of power, but different from that of a Quickening. The other four members of SG-1, plus Dr. Fraiser, showed up about eight o'clock. Jack, Daniel and Teal'c made a beeline for the backyard where Hamza had just put on the steaks.

There were small groups here and there, most talking about current events, and a few remarking at the flavor in the appetizers. Then Majors Carter and Fraiser found themselves in a conversation with Piper when she asked them a question that floored them.

"So, you two work with Marius. May I ask a question? Kind of personal though."

"Sure, go ahead."

"How can I get his attention? I realize we only met a few hours ago, but it feels like I've know him all my life. Like he's the one that I've been waiting for. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with this man, but is that all I want? He'll live forever, and we'll only have a few years together. Is that enough?"

"That's not a question I'd want to be asking. Dr. Ramos is a very handsome man. If you think you can capture his heart, then I say go for it!"

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_**Elsewhere in the Universe**_

The Cylons had sent six of their base ships against this new enemy, the one that called itself the Goa'uld. It would be their first battle. The first of many yet to come. It was a new enemy and it meant that the Colonial refugees would have to wait while the Empire put down this insignificant species of creatures.

The first battle was joined. On one side there were six base ships, and on the other a dozen Ha'tak class motherships, a pair of Cheops cruisers, and a triad of Shral'ka command motherships. The Cheops and two of the Shral'kas would act as rear-guard for Anubis' mothership. The Cylon base ships released their fighters and they formed into standard battle phalanx formations. The Udajeet class fighters spewed forth from the Ha'tak's and joined up for the coming battle. They would be flanked by a dozen Al'kesh heavy bombers. The heavier guns on the Al'kesh formation would aid the Udajeets in their quest to rid Goa'uld space of this machine threat.

And then the wait ended and the fire fight began. Space was alight with laser and plasma cannon fire. Solonite missiles rushed forward from the Cylon fighters in waves so thick, they seemed as one solid mass of quickly moving and quite deadly objects. Had it been Viper fighters that the Cylons faced, the battle might have been evenly matched. However, the Udajeet fighters were no match for the Cylon fighters and they fell quickly to the advancing Cylons.

Then the Al'kesh bombers joined in the fray and the tide turned, for a moment or two, to the favor of the Goa'uld. Turned, that is, until the Cylon base stars added their heavy pulsar cannons to the fray and the Al'kesh were quickly reduced in number. The Ha'taks moved forward now. Their heavier shielding stopping almost ninety percent of the energy in the pulsar beams. But the remaining ten percent of the energy beam that penetrated the shielding did damage. No one shot could have destroyed a Ha'tak, but repeated shots did their damage cumulatively.

The Cylon fighters moved onto the Ha'tak's now that they were deprived of the fighter cover. But this was a battle meant for capital ships alone. The Cylon fighters began to fall. Slowly at first, then more quickly as more guns on more motherships joined in the fray, until what remained was capital ship versus capital ship. The battle strategies used by the Goa'uld had served them well for millennia. These were the same tactics they used against one another. But here, they worked not as well. The tactics were designed to raise fear in their enemy, but there enemy was not human. A cybernetic enemy knows no fear. And it showed.

But by concentrating their fire on a single target at a time, the Goa'uld were winning. It would be a hard fought victory. The Cylons had lost all of their fighter compliments. The same was true for the Ha'tak motherships and for the Al'kesh bombers. The same would not be said of the Cheops or the Shral'kas.

Once again, the tide turned to the favor of the Goa'uld. Three base stars had fallen and two more were being systematically destroyed. The Goa'uld had their attention focused on the battle before them. They did not see a new set of six base stars as they emerged from behind a camouflage screen and attacked from the rear. The tide turned again, and now, it was a victory for the Cylons.

Anubis was brought before the Cylon Imperious Leader. And here, Anubis was granted a second opportunity to join forces with the Cylons. Only now, instead of granting the Goa'uld the rights afforded to an ally, the Cylons granted them the rights due to a serf of a vastly more powerful ruler; the Cylon Empire.

Two of Anubis' allies, Osiris and Baal, were of a different notion. They did not see any good coming from this alliance, and so they stole an Al'kesh and fled to Lord Yu's domain. The inevitable battle between Lord Yu and Anubis would not go well.

For now, the battle between the Cylon Empire and the Colonial refugees would wait. The Cylons needed to establish a foothold in this part of the universe. They needed to be re-supplied and refueled. Their supply lines were too long to support any engagements for long. They were machines. They were patient. They would wait.


	4. Patience

Patience 

_Part 2 of the Potentials Series_

_Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible._

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_And now, on to the story..._

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It had been just shy of five months since the startling announcement made by President Ryan regarding the existence of the Stargate program, of aliens, and of Colonials and Immortals. In five months, the first dome had been designed and built on Luna and the majority of Immortals had moved there. On Mars and her two moons, the Colonials had launched massive construction campaigns that were now producing above-surface living quarters at astonishing rates. One of their Forge ships was prowling through the asteroid belt sucking up raw materiel for new squadrons of fighters and for construction of a new fleet of Battlestars that would eventually join the _Galactica_ and the _Daedalus_.

On Earth, the SGC was slowly being converted into a multi-national force. After having secured a treaty of sorts with a planet full of Unas, shipments of naquadah were now arriving with increasing regularity. Squadrons of fighter pilots were now based at nearby Peterson AFB. These squadrons were pulling rotational duty on and off the two Battlecruisers, while work continued on three more. Long range patrols were constantly in space, patrolling the outer reaches of the Sol System.

With the revelation of the advanced space going vessels under Air Force control, and the loan of two Air Force shuttles and two Colonial shuttles to NASA, that agency had mothballed their own shuttle fleet. The existing space station, still under construction at the time of the President's speech, had been converted to a construction crew housing facility while the first of several of joint Earth-Colonial-Immortal space stations were built.

With one fell swoop, Earth had advance nearly three hundred years in space fairing technology. Already the presence of advanced medical technologies as released by the Colonials and the Immortals were making a considerable impact on Earth. Nations that only months before had been at each others proverbial throats, were now sending soldiers and pilots to train along side one another in a common defense of the Earth, Luna, and Mars. Using the technologies created by Marius Augustus, the Immortals had built a ship yard for the creation of newer and more advanced Battlecruisers for Earth's defense. Marius' staff had taken a dozen CMUs onto a shuttle and were busily carving out five ships from a large asteroid in the Belt. These ships would become underway replenishment ships for the fleet vessels of the system.

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_**Elsewhere in the Galaxy**_

Osiris and Baal had fled to the relative safety of Lord Yu's domain following the submission of Anubis to the Cylons and Count Iblis. It had taken five months for the Council of System Lords to amass a fleet large enough to deal with the threat posed by Anubis and his new allies. It was probably the largest fleet assembled by the System Lords in their recorded history. Fifty _Cheops_-class cruisers, a hundred _Ha'tak_-class mother ships, and dozens of _Shral'ka_-class heavy mother ships, supported by several hundred Al'kesh bombers and thousands of Udajeet fighters. The fleet moved as one into hyperspace for the journey to the domain under control by Anubis and the Cylons.

The Tok'ra operatives aboard many of the fleet ships were unable to make contact with their controllers until the battle had been joined, and even then it was only a short series of emergency messages. The Tok'ra would be unable to do anything to assist.

The Cylons had not been idle either in the intervening months. Hundreds of base ships had been brought to that system from their home system. The 'subjects' of Anubis' home world had been pressed into slave-like conditions building ships and armaments for the Cylons. Now they had tens of thousands of fighters at their disposal. Then the combined fleets of the System Lords appeared in their space and the battle was engaged.

Al'kesh bombers went in with Udajeet fighters trying to cut a hole in the frontal line of Cylon base ships. On the Cylon side, there were four thousand fighters waiting for them. The advantage on the Cylon side was that each fighter carried a pilot, a gunner, and a command Centurion, thus they were somewhat autonomous, at least within the guidelines of their current mission. On the Goa'uld side, each Udajeet fighter had a crew of two; a pilot and a gunner. They were not as independent in their actions as their only goal was to defend their 'God'. The advantage on the Goa'uld side was in the Al'kesh bombers. More guns and more plasma torpedo bombs at their disposal. It was the Goa'uld Al'kesh bombers that fired the first round of shots. What the Goa'uld did not realize was that they had weapons that would enable them to fire at long range. The Cylon fighters were designed with short range interdiction weapons. It would prove a costly mistake.

The Al'kesh bombers came in fast and hard with Udajeet fighters in close support. Space was awash with plasma energies as torpedo bombs found and destroyed Cylon fighters. Still the Cylons did not fire back. For some reason, they had to come close to their targets before opening fire. But this escaped the attention of the dozen System Lords and their First Primes aboard the command mother ships at the rear of the formation. It did not, however, escape the attention of the Asgard probe hiding behind a cloaking screen and observing the unfolding battle.

Now the battle was set. Cylon fighters weaved and dove through the ranks of Udajeet fighters. The two fighter types were equally matched. And while they were engaged, the Al'kesh bombers made their runs at the base ships behind the screen of fighters. And while they scored some lucky hits with their bombs, they were no match for the heavy pulsar cannons that each base ship fielded. In threes and fours, the Al'kesh bombers fell to the lancing beams of pulsar fire. It seemed like hours but was only a matter of ten to fifteen minutes before the final Al'kesh met a fiery plasma death.

Now the Udajeets were on their own. Their 'Gods' called them back to defend the mother ships as now the larger capital ships moved in. Their force fields kept the withering fire of the Cylon fighters away from the hulls of the ships, but would not stand up to the pulsar fire. Now they changed tactics somewhat and engaged the base ships from a distance. But it was a case of too little too late. There were just too many of them and the tactics employed by the System Lords were designed to be used against other Goa'uld, not cybernetic enemies. The battle was not going in their favor. Lord Yu made a desperate decision, one that took him by surprise. Retreat. Retreat to form an alliance. With the Tau'ri.

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_**Earth, California, San Francisco**_

**_June 8th_**

Marius had been invited to meet Piper's family, but he was also there to speak with a few companies regarding the possibilities of joint mining ventures in the asteroid belt. His meetings were done for the day, and truthfully they had not gone well. Too many of the technologies he was offering for lease to these companies were untried and unproven in their eyes. Now he found himself standing outside a stately looking home of at least two floors, though if one counted the attic, it would be three floors. The door was ornate, more so than he would have thought, with a bit too much glass for his liking. He knocked once, twice, then waited as he could hear someone approaching. And feel them. Though it was like Cassandra had already explained to him, and if he concentrated enough, he could tell that the power signature from the other side of the door was not, in fact, a Quickening, not even a pre-Immortal one.

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm looking for Piper?"

"Piper! Someone at the door for you!"

Then she appeared at the door and Marius felt his breath leave him. She was a vision of loveliness dressed almost entirely in black. It stirred feelings deep within. And it pained him, but it was the good kind of pain. She invited him in, and upon crossing the threshold, he felt something. Powerful, raw, and immensely and intensely good. He could not put it into words. She brought him into the kitchen area that was all at once small yet fully functional.

"Marco, I'd like to introduce you to my sisters. This is Phoebe, and that's Paige."

"Hmm. Piper, Phoebe, and Paige. Your mother must have liked the letter P?"

"It's a tradition in our family."

Phoebe was thinking very impure thoughts over the man her sister had brought in. A damned fine specimen of manhood if ever she had seen one. But there was something else that she could feel, like an electrical current running just under the surface. It was at once exciting and scary.

Paige was having similar feelings. And similar thoughts. But she also saw how much Piper had improved her outlook over the last few weeks and she knew it would be in bad form if she or Phoebe flirted with this hunk of a man.

"So how did your day go? Get a lot of orders?"

"Nope. Nary a one. These companies, they wouldn't know a good deal if came up and begged to bite them."

"Orders? What line of work are you in Marco?"

He looked askance at Piper.

"You didn't tell them?"

"The subject hasn't come up really. I thought I'd let you do that."

"Oh this should be fun. Phoebe, Paige, I have a question for you. Well actually two questions. First of all, do either of you two read the paper or watch the news?"

"Well we did when Piper was dating that reporter. But it's usually too depressing."

"I see. So then I don't look remotely familiar to either one of you?"

"What are you? Rock star?"

"Ah, no. Sorry Paige. Not a rock star. Though I do play guitar, it's not something I've ever tried to make a profession of. No, I've been on the news programs a lot of late. In fact, had it not been for that former boyfriend of Piper's, I daresay she and I would not have met. He did an exposé some months ago, right about the time Jack Ryan released some info that well, let's just say, upset a few notions about alien life."

"You're an alien? Oh my God!"

"No! Not an alien. I was born here on Earth. Sometime around six hundred years before the birth of Christ, in the area that is now known as Spain."

Piper led them all into the living room where Marius took a seat and began to tell his story. But he had barely begun when this thing, this human shaped thing materialized into the living room. He was in shock for all of maybe two seconds. Long enough to see the thing, whatever it was, form a fireball in its hand and throw it at Piper. Paige disappeared in a flash of light, taking Piper with her and reappeared on the far side of the room. Whatever this creature was, it meant to do harm and Marius pulled his sword from beneath his jacket.

"I've no idea what you are, but you are not welcome here. Leave. Or I shall be forced to kill you."

"Human. You can not kill me. Step aside. I'm here only for the Witches."

"Whatever."

Marius took a swing and sliced the creature down its front before pivoting on one foot and bringing the blade up and across its neck. The head came away from the body easily enough and then both parts dissolved in a flash of fire and ash.

"Uhm. Yeah. Ok. Well, that's never happened to me before. What the hell was that?"

"Would you believe a demon?"

"A demon. Uhm, sure. If that was a demon, then who are the witches he mentioned?"

"We are. The three of us. In magical circles, we are known as the Charmed Ones. Three witches who safeguard innocents from evil."

"I think I need a drink. Hell, twenty-six hundred years of life, and now I meet demons and witches. No, that's not true, I mean, there is Cassandra to think about, and oh my, what a lot to think about with that one!"

"What do you mean? Who's Cassandra?"

"Cassandra is one of us, an Immortal. She's also a witch. A very old and very powerful witch."

"I'd love to meet her sometime."

"I'm sure that can be arranged. Though you've already met her Piper."

"I have? Oh, wait a minute, she was at that party at your friend's place a few months ago, the night we met."

"That's the one."

"She's a witch?"

"Yep. In fact she managed to correct a notion I had about you being one of us, a pre-Immortal. She could feel your power, but she told me in no uncertain terms that what I felt, the power I felt, was not that of either Immortal or Yet-To-Be-Immortal. And now that I've seen your powers with my own eyes, I know just what she meant."

"So just how old is she, anyways?"

"Well, I never ask any woman her age. That would be downright impolite of me. But she's older than me, by at least six hundred years."

"Is she the eldest of your kind?"

"No. Not hardly. Methos has at least six thousand years on her."

"Six thousand? Oh my."

"Yeah, well even I get to call him 'Old Man'. He was around before the pyramids were built."

"Oh wow!"

"What's it like, Marius, to see so much history pass before your eyes?"

"Ya know, Phoebe, people have asked me that a thousand times before, and I'll give you the only answer I have. For you, a century ago is the past, it's history. For me, it was a lifetime. I've seen so much and done so much that for me it was just another day. I mean, even Isaac didn't know he was making history when that apple fell on him."

"You knew Newton?"

"No, not really. We traveled in the same circles once upon a time. He was President of Cambridge when I was there getting a law degree. A most formidable debater as I recall."

----------------------------------------

The talking continued well into the afternoon and Marius excused himself to return to his hotel. He wanted to change out of his suit and into something far more comfortable for his date that evening with Piper. His phone rang just as he stepped out of the Halliwell's home.

"Ramos."

"How goes the business in San Francisco?"

"About as well as can be expected Marcus. These companies wouldn't know a good deal if it came up and bit them on the ass. I'm beginning to think we need to set up our own manufacturing capability on Luna rather than…"

"Rather than what Marius? Marius? Are you there? Marius?"

But Marius couldn't answer. He'd felt something prick his neck like a mosquito sting but by the time his hand reached up to swat at it, he was falling to the ground.

----------------------------------------

"Hey Piper? What time did Marius say he was picking you up for dinner?"

"I forgot to ask. Let me see if he's still outside."

Piper came out just in time to see several men loading a very unconscious looking Marius into a non-descript black panel van with darkly tinted windows. The van pulled away from the curb in a big hurry and she ran out into the street to try and read the license plate numbers only to find Marius' cell phone on the ground. She didn't see the plate numbers. She picked up the cell phone and heard someone speaking from it.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?"

"Who is _this_?"

"I am Marcus Constantine. What have you done with Marius?"

"Mr. Constantine. My name is Piper Halliwell. Marius was just here, but I realized I'd forgotten to ask him something. So I cam outside just in time to see several men loading him into a van and driving away."

"Stay where you are, Ms. Halliwell. Someone will be contacting you shortly. I have to cut this connection now, but someone will be back with you in a few moments."

"Is Marius alright?"

"I have no idea. I need to go."

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The next call Marcus placed was to Adam Pierson at the SGC.

"Pierson."

"Adam. I need help."

"What's wrong?"

"Marius. I think he's been taken."

"Taken?"

"Yes, taken. By parties unknown. His current love interest was a witness to the tail end of the kidnapping."

"San Francisco? I'll be there soonest."

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"Jack!"

"Adam?"

"Marius is in trouble. I need to get to him."

"Where is he?"

"San Francisco."

"We've got a shuttle topside. Let's go!"

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About ten minutes after Marcus' call to Adam, Marius awoke in the back of a van. His legs and wrists secured by chains.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Why, Mr. President, I am the man that will examine you in detail. To see what makes you and your kind tick."

"Watch it asshole. That's not legal."

"I am quite aware of the pithy laws of this country. They do not apply to myself nor to my colleagues. Come along quietly, Dr. Ramos, and we will leave Ms. Halliwell here, safe and unharmed. Resist, and I will issue orders that she be made to join you. We will take her if only to keep you quiet."

"The hell you will! I am Marius Augustus. Citizen of Luna. President of the Immortal Council. Commander-in-Chief of the Immortal Military. Consider yourself challenged, asshole."

Marius made to raise his sword in salute, but realized too late that he was securely locked in by the many chains around his body. Nonetheless, his captors chose that moment to shoot him with a second dart. Not a tranquilizer dart as he initially thought, but a dart loaded with cyanide. As he felt the poison rush through his veins, he gritted his teeth hard and felt the hidden transmitter in his back-most molar buzz gently into his jaw; a concealed emergency locator beacon encased by a covering that resembled a cavity. The signal went out immediately to a satellite, then down to the SGC. By the time the signal had been relayed to Captain Adam Pierson, Marius had been bundled into a second van with government plates and was being driven to a nearby heliport.

"Jack. We've got a problem."

"What problem? We'll be on the ground in a few, Adam."

"No Jack. Stay in the air. The SGC just received an emergency locator beacon signal from Marius. He was against that idea, as you recall. But it is necessary for any Immortals on Earth. In the event we are taken by someone. He would only activate it if that were the case."

"What are your procedures, Adam?"

"They haven't been tested yet. We didn't anticipate anyone trying to grab one of us, at least not yet."

"Where did the signal originate?"

"Looks like a residential neighborhood in San Francisco. Should we check there first?"

"And we're down. Sam, stay with the ship. Teal'c, Adam, with me."

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A quick check of the Halliwell house proved that neither Phoebe nor Paige had witnessed the kidnapping. Piper only saw the van for a moment, and beyond the description of a black van with no plates and darkly tinted windows, she hadn't seen anything else. It was at this point that Adam called Marcus back recommended to him that the abduction protocols be implemented.

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_**Federal Building, San Francisco**_

**_June 8th_**

They were finishing up the paper work that would put another serial killer on death row, when his cell phone rang.

"Mulder."

"Hey fibbie. That frequency you asked us to monitor just went ape shit. Looks like someone grabbed an Immortal. We believe it was that cigarette smoking bastard that did it."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as we can be."

"Do you have a location?"

"The Immortal was grabbed from outside a residential neighborhood in San Francisco. We're tracking a moving signal heading west."

"Get me a location as soon as you can. I'll get Scully."

"You got it Mulder."

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"Who was that Mulder?"

"The guys. They told me the Immortal emergency frequency just went nuts. They think it was someone from the Consortium that grabbed an Immortal."

"With as much security as these Immortals supposedly have, I think I wouldn't want to be in that bastard's shoes when they catch him."

"This is our chance Scully. If we get to him first, they'll have to let me in to see these Grays! Then they'll have to tell me what happened to my sister!"

"Oh Mulder. Don't get your hopes up. Do they have a location yet?"

"The signal is moving west. Are you with me Scully?"

"Yes. I am. I'm going to call Skinner and then Doggett."

"You do that. I'll get us a car."

----------------------------------------

"Are you quite sure Methos?"

"I am, Constantine. Marius has been abducted. He was at Piper's home in San Francisco."

"Is she the one I met at his last dinner party?"

"The one and the same. It appears as though only he was taken. The signal we are receiving is moving west at a good rate of speed so we can only assume that it is airborne."

"Your recommendation, Methos?"

"We get him back! And we make sure whoever has done this will not threaten an Immortal, any Immortal, ever again."

"I concur. Very well. I will make the arrangements up here. Are any of the strike teams available?"

"I believe Alex's team is available. Duncan's team is presently off-world."

"Get Alexander moving. I'll get our team up here moving towards Earth as soon as possible."

"I'll be in touch Constantine."

"As will I."

----------------------------------------

"Mobilizing the Immortal troops, Adam?"

"Yes. The hostage rescue team is gearing up on Luna. We need to get Alex's team up to speed."

"You contact him. Carter, get us back to the Mountain. Quick as you can, Carter. There's no telling what they'll do to Marco."

----------------------------------------

"Adam, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Alex. Someone grabbed Marius."

"Right. I'll get my team geared up and standing by."

"We'll be on the ground in thirty minutes Alex."

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"Hammond."

"Sir. Dr. Ramos has been taken."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes sir. He was with a woman friend in San Francisco. She managed to see some men as they grabbed him and took off in a black panel van. He has been grabbed by parties unknown. We have a signal from his transponder. It's moving west. I need two teams sir. Alex Phillipson's team and one of the Rainbow units at the mountain."

"I'll make the request to the President. Get him back, Colonel."

"I will sir."

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"Mr. President."

"General Hammond? Is something wrong?"

"Sir. I have a formal request for the assistance of a Rainbow unit. Dr. Marco Ramos, President of the Immortal Council has been abducted by persons and parties unknown. We have a signal from his transponder moving west into Nevada."

"I'll get General Clark to release a team to you."

----------------------------------------

"Clark."

"John. It's Jack. Report to General Hammond for a mission briefing. Get your team ready."

"Roger that sir."

----------------------------------------

"General Hammond? Rainbow team one is at your disposal."

"Good. Bring your team in and we'll get this briefing underway."

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While all of these events were transpiring, Spender and his colleagues were busily searching for the transponder that this Immortal, Marius, had to have on his person. One of them found it, beneath a false cavity filling in his rear-most molar. It took less than a minute to remove it and to crush it. The signal stopped. Now they continued on their way to their base in northern Canada.

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"Sir. The signal stopped."

"What? How?"

"Unknown sir. We are looking at radar data for the area to correlate the signal to an aircraft. We should have that data shortly."

"Keep on it!"

"Gentlemen, get your teams ready for immediate deployment. As soon as we find that aircraft, I'll authorize you to go in and get our people back."

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_**Northern Canada**_

**_June 9th _**

An hour passed. Then two. Marius awoke to find himself strapped down to a gurney. Securely strapped. In a room with no windows and a single door.

"Ah, we're awake. Good. Now we may begin. Tell me. How does one become an Immortal?"

"Fuck you."

"Come now, Dr. Ramos, or should I say, Mr. President. It will not hurt anyone to give us this information."

"Go to hell."

"I'd rather hoped you wouldn't take this attitude with me. I know that even if we kill you, you'll just come back to life. So we're not going to torture you directly. No. That would be rather uncultured of me. Instead, I think I'll let my doctors perform a few autopsies on you."

"Won't do you any good. Our internal workings are identical to yours."

"Really? I rather doubt that. You have this most amazing ability to heal, even when your body is quite dead. Now. Observe closely."

As he turned to the side, he saw a man walk in with a scalpel. The man moved to his side and made a deep incision from the base of his neck to the top of his groin. He screamed.

"Bastard! I'll kill you!"

"Tell me what I wish to know, and it will stop."

"If I could, I would! Rat fuck bastard!"

"Do you mean to tell me that even you, as an Immortal, does not know why you are what you are?"

"None of us do!"

"A rather unique opportunity is it not? To discover why you are? To learn why you exist?"

"Fuck off!"

Hours passed. Marius was awake only sporadically. The scientists autopsied Marius after others fed him a steady diet of cyanide, arsenic, and every other poison known to man. When they got to a liter of each, they switched to nerve gases to examine his healing ability. Marius continued to die and revive each and every time, though he tried not to, as these doctors repeatedly cut into his body. They did not use any anesthesia as evidenced by his screams. He watched, barely alive and extremely horrified, as they removed his various organs, only to hear their excited reactions as his organs grew themselves anew. He could only hope that rescue would come soon. He was trying to free himself from these straps, but they were made of some material that resisted stretching. Of course, he could only guess what else they had in store for him once the current course of nerve gases was complete.

----------------------------------------

_**Cheyenne Mountain**_

**_June 10th_**

"Sir, we've got it." A technician announced the finding.

"Show me."

They had been tracking the signal, not the plane, when the signal had been lost, and so it took some hours to weed out the aircraft that had been in the air at the same time. But with the tracking data in hand, it was only a matter of time before the plane was located. And then tracked.

"This is the aircraft in question sir. It's a Gulfstream mod IV. We back-tracked it to a private air field in San Francisco and tracked it via NORAD's radar stations to a location in northern Canada. We tasked a KH-11 to the suspected area and have discovered what appears to be a clandestine base buried beneath the tundra. A follow-on tasking by a KH-12 shows significant heat sources where there should be none."

"Who has the money to build such a facility, General?"

"That's what you'll find out when you raid that base Jack."

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_**Northern Canada**_

**_June 11th_**

He was awake again after the most current course of biological agents. His body had fought off Ebola and it was an experience he definitely did not want to repeat. He had been watching them for a few minutes now as they cut into him yet again. He was at his wit's end and he could take no more of this torture. He shouted for their attention.

"Ok. You want information? I'll give you information. I'll tell you whatever you wish."

"Dr. Ramos. How very kind of you."

"But I have some requests first. I will understand if not all of my requests can be granted, but for the amount of information I am willing to trade, I sincerely hope that you will attempt to grant at least two of my requests."

"I'm listening."

"And for that I do thank you. First, no more torture. Allow me a few hours to rest and recover my sanity."

"Very well, Doctor. I will order your examination ceased for the moment."

"Thank you. I have one more request.

"Two hours to recuperate. Uninterrupted. I'm afraid the monitoring devices will be left on however. Your second request?"

"Tell me why you are doing this."

"I will consider that request."

"If I ever get out of this, I will separate your head from your neck, put it on a pike and pound it into the ground in front of the United Nations building as a warning to any nation or organization that thinks about doing this to another Immortal."

"That's a colorful threat, Dr. Ramos. I doubt very much that you will live long enough to accomplish that however."

"Perhaps. But it's something for me to dream about while answering your questions. I trust that your interrogation methods will no longer be used?"

"For now, since you are being so cooperative, I will make sure they are not used. I trust you will not attempt to leave? No matter. Escape from this facility is impossible."

Marius was exhausted from the endless hours of torture and surgeries. He placed himself into a deep meditative state to try and recover from his ordeal. Two hours would not be enough time, but he would take what he could get. There he remained, in the room in silence, until they came back into the room. Marius was grabbed and strapped to a chair, gagged, and then beaten by three heavily muscled men. Not enough to kill him, but enough to hurt him. Then He walked in. The smoking bastard himself.

"You lied. You said no more torture."

"So I lied. It's part and parcel to my profession. Now then, Mr. President. You will tell me everything we wish to know. Start with your first death."

"My first death. Here we go with the flashbacks. It was in battle. It's been so long that history has forgotten it ever occurred. I was buried in a shallow grave. When I awoke from death, I clawed my way out of the ground where another of my kind awaited my resurrection. He took me in and taught me what I need to know to survive."

Before he could continue, alarms began blaring in the facility. The old man sitting across from him grabbed a two-way radio from one of his guards and ordered the intruders captured and brought to him. Ten minutes passed, then the door opened and two trussed up persons were tossed into the room. One was tall and lanky, with dark hair. The other shorter, with red hair and alabaster skin.

"Agent Mulder and the lovely Agent Scully. Such an uncommon nuisance to see you both again."

And before Spender could say another word, the alarms began blaring again. This time, they were accompanied by explosions and gun fire and that which only Marius could describe as Zat fire.

"It appears that this facility has been compromised. I shall take my leave now. Kill them." Spender gave the order to three of his men in the room before he ran out the door and down the hallway.

Marius realized their mistake before they did. In the zeal to extract information from him, they had neglected to secure his legs to the chair. Only his arms had been tied to the arms of the chair. As one of the armed thugs made to raise his gun and fire at the red-haired woman, Marius jumped up from where he sat, still strapped to the chair, and ran the thug down, splintering the chair in the process. He then turned on the next gunman and drove him into the wall. The third wanted no part of this and made to shoot at the female agent on the ground. Marius dove into his line of fire just as he pulled the trigger, and took a pair of rounds to the heart for his trouble.

A few moments later, three members of Phillipson's squad came into the room. Amanda went to Scully's side and checked her over. Other than some nasty marks from the ropes and gag, she was fine. Connor stood by the door, covering them while Ramirez checked on his former student. One of the Rainbow troopers came in and checked on the male agent on the ground.

Scully was at a loss for words. This man that had been strapped to a chair had jumped up and taken the bullets meant for her. Now he was dying and these soldiers were doing nothing to help him. Beside her, Mulder was in a mild shock. Two more troopers came in with a stretcher and placed the man onto it. Then they all followed the troopers out of the facility. By the time they had made it outside, Marius had revived and Alex Phillipson was kneeling beside him.

"Alex. Damned glad to see ya!"

"Marius. Do you know who took you?"

"No. He never told me his name. All I can tell you is that he's an old mortal and he smokes. A lot. Every time I saw him he had a cig in his hand. As much as he smokes, I'm surprised he's still alive."

"I know who he is. I've been trying to bring him to justice for ten years."

"Who are you?"

"Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. This is my partner, Agent Dana Scully."

"You, you took a bullet for me. Why?"

"Easy, Agent Scully. You're a mortal. I'm not. I'll wake up. You wouldn't have. It was an easy choice."

"I owe you my life."

"Not necessary. Tell me what you know about that man and I'll consider us even."

"Sir. We have a pair of Tel'tacs standing by to return us to the Mountain."

"Excellent. Let's mount up and move out. Oh and Alex? Do us all a favor and torch this place but good."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Stop that."

They were airborne shortly. The two shuttles were escorted by three fighters. One of the fighters pulled out of the formation and started a strafing run on the facility, dropping large plasma bombs on the surface structures, then rejoined the formation as it flew to the Mountain at a little under Mach five. Once there, the teams dispersed to the infirmary for check-in and to the armory to turn-in their weapons. The trip to the Mountain had been a silent one. Everyone aboard the shuttle could sense the tension emanating from Marius. Marius wanted only one thing; to see the head of that smoking bastard on a pike.

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_**Stargate Command**_

_**Office of General Hammond**_

**_June 11th_**

"Jack. Your report."

"Sir. We took into custody five men. No obvious leaders. They look to be all foot soldiers. We recovered some documents and computer hardware. The facility is no more. Marius ordered Alex to torch the facility, which he did. I'm not entirely sure what went on in there, however, Alex has informed me that Dr. Ramos was tortured repeatedly. On Marius, they used various types of poisons and numerous chemical and biological agents, after which they performed dozens of autopsies. While he was still very much alive."

"Who did this?"

"The five men we captured are not being at all forth coming. However, the rescue troops on the ground were a few minutes behind a pair of federal agents that attempted to rescue Marius."

"Federal agents? Which agency?"

"Federal Bureau of Investigation. The male agent claims to know who took Marius. He claims he has been on the trail of this person for a decade."

"I see. Make sure everyone is cleared by Dr. Fraiser. Increase the security patrols. Debriefing scheduled for 0800 tomorrow."

"Yes sir!"

Hammond picked up the Red Phone again.

"Mr. President."

"General Hammond. Any news?"

"Yes sir. President Marius has been recovered. Sir, there were two federal agents on the scene that arrived just minutes before our own rescue troops. While we did not recover any of the leaders of this organization, the two FBI agents in question do claim to know who the leader is, and they claim that this man and his organization are a part of various world governments."

"I see. General, have you debriefed these agents?"

"The debriefing is scheduled for 0800 tomorrow."

"Set it up as a video teleconference. I'll have some interested parties on this side. Any organization like that one is not in the best interest of the public."

"I agree sir."

----------------------------------------

**_0800 hours, June 12th_**

_**SGC/White House Situation Room Teleconference**_

_**Joined in Progress**_

"First of all, Marius, allow me to say that I am thankful that you are alive and well. It was disheartening to learn that you had been taken. But I am grateful that all our resources were mobilized so quickly and that we were able to locate you and effect a rescue."

"And for that, Mr. President, I will be eternally grateful to the members of the rescue teams, both mortal and Immortal alike. But the reason I was taken sir, eludes me. The man who was in charge, Agent Mulder refers to him as Spender. Why would this Spender want me? Agent Mulder? You seem to know more about this that you are letting on. Please tell us your story."

"Given what I've seen here and what you people deal with on a day to day basis, I can tell that you are open to extreme possibilities. So with that in mind I'll begin this story. And I'll ask Scully to jump in where ever appropriate.

"The information I have on how the conspiracy was formed is primarily speculation, based on what little evidence my partner and I have managed to obtain. We have had, over the years, a lot of evidence that has been destroyed or classified by the government. It is my understanding that this conspiracy began in 1947 with the Roswell crash. Yes, there was a spaceship of some kind that crashed into the desert outside of Roswell, New Mexico. The survivors of that crash were apparently on a survey mission, seeking evidence of the original inhabitants of this planet. I say original, because they view us as a parasite that is meant only to serve as breeders for more of their kind.

"The original inhabitant is a virus. A virus that resembles a thick viscous substance that is pitch black in coloration. We've termed this substance black oil or black cancer. When this virus invades a body, it takes it over and the result is a new alien life form, that emerges after a period of incubation violently from the host. Think of the movie _Alien_, and you get an idea of how the alien life form emerges from it's host.

"In 1947, the alien survey craft and its survivors were picked up by a secret government agency. This agency came to an agreement with the aliens. In exchange for their cooperation, the human members of the conspiracy would become puppet kings of the aliens. The aliens wanted their help to identify certain types of humans that would serve either as human incubators or who would contribute their DNA for experimentation into the creation of a human-alien hybrid.

"That's unbelievable!"

"Sir, that's as believable as it gets. The rest is far worse. This group of humans in the conspiracy, determined to become more than just puppet rulers, set about a campaign that has lasted a half century to produce a vaccine against the black oil. But their goals are not as altruistic as you might believe. They planned on vaccinating only the members of the conspiracy and their families, not on giving that vaccine to the entire world. They want power.

"To this end, they have authorized the kidnap of and experimentation of numerous human subjects. These subjects are taken mysteriously. Some are returned, many are not. My own sister was taken by them when I was twelve. These men will stop at nothing to enslave their fellow man. They have killed my father, killed Scully's sister, abducted Scully and given her cancer. They harvested all of her ova, Mr. President. She is, or so we believed, barren."

"You are no longer barren Agent Scully?"

"I was taken again sir. This time, they returned to me some of my ova, although how this was accomplished I could not begin to guess. This resulted in the birth of a son, William, who I have had to give up for adoption, so that these men could not get their hands on my son. They tried several times shortly after my William was born. Unsuccessfully I might add."

"Agent Mulder, I was told that these men are members of the government?"

"I have seen Spender numerous times at the FBI. He seems to have free reign of the place."

"Dan? You care to comment on that?"

"Mr. President, I have never heard of any man named Spender. Agent Mulder, are you quite certain that he works for the FBI?"

"Director Murray, no I am not certain that he works there. However, he was a frequent visitor, and I never saw him wear a visitor's badge. He wore no badge of any kind in the numerous times I saw him either in AD Skinner's office or AD Kersh's office."

"Skinner and Kersh are involved in this?"

"For his part, Skinner was an unwitting partner to them. They had something over him initially and so when he was our supervisor, they were able to control him. When Kersh took over as our supervisor, Spender and his associates implanted nanites into AD Skinner to keep him under control. Kersh they were able to manipulate simply because they promised him the directorship of the FBI. The man wants nothing more than power and he will do whatever is necessary to achieve it."

"Agent Mulder. Would you prefer that we bring in AD Skinner or AD Kersh?"

"Given a choice, Mr. Director, I'd rather have Skinner there than Kersh."

"I'm having someone send for him. He should be here shortly."

"Back to your story, Agent."

"Yes, Mr. President. The group of conspirators call themselves the Consortium. They have used the guise of alien abductions to further their inhuman research. Cloning. Biological warfare. Genetic engineering. It is my guess that they saw in an Immortal, if they could duplicate the Immortality factor, the ability to create a super soldier, one that would be loyal to their wants and needs."

"Enough. I do not want trash like this operating in our government. I am authorizing, as of this moment, a task force to bring these people to justice. Agents Mulder and Scully, I would like the two of you to head this task force. For the duration of this investigation, I am directing General Hammond to provide you with office space within the SGC, as it is, without a doubt, the most secure location from which you can operate. How many agents do you feel justified in asking for?"

"As many as Director Murray can spare sir. Though to be honest, I doubt many would want to work for the paranormal division, sir."

"I am familiar with your reputation Agent Mulder. I am also aware that you and Agent Scully have the highest solve rate and case closure rate at the Bureau. You stated previously that this Consortium is international in nature?"

"Yes sir."

"One moment, Agent. AD Skinner has just arrived."

"AD Skinner, Agent Mulder has been filling us in on some rather unique details of your activities with a man named Spender. Care to comment?"

"Sir. With respect. I can not."

"You are refusing an order from your President?"

"Sir. I am sir."

"They know about the nanites, Skinner."

"What? How? Oh I see. Mulder. Then you understand sir, why I can not divulge any details. To do so would mean my death."

"General Hammond, is there anything the SGC can do about this?"

"We've dealt with nanites before, Mr. President. I'm sure we can."

"If the SGC can not, then the Ancients can and will. This is a threat to mortal and Immortal alike. It must be dealt with immediately."

"On that I am also in agreement."

"Tok'Ra? How long have you been listening to us?"

"I have always been here Marius. Mr. President, you and your kind were warned what would happen should one of my 'children' be taken?"

"I was. All I ask is that you heal this man so that he can assist us in bringing these people to justice."

The gaseous cloud seemed to pause for a moment, then winked out, only to reappear in the Situation Room of the White House. It paused for another moment, then engulfed AD Skinner. After a few seconds, it vanished yet again only to reappear at the SGC.

"He has been healed. All traces of nanites have been removed from his body."

"I, for one, do not want you as an enemy Tok'Ra. AD Skinner, please tell us of your role in this conspiracy."

"Yes, Mr. President. I do not know what just happened, but I do feel a lot better. But as to my role in this conspiracy. I was ordered to task Agents Mulder and Scully with various assignments designed to bring to light information the Consortium needed. With their authority, they could speak to any number of individuals, all in the name of Justice, and not be suspected of any ulterior motives. To this end, they were occasionally allowed to see the truth of the conspiracy, only to have any evidence disappear, either destroyed or classified. The members of this consortium appear to me, in any case, to have infiltrated the highest echelons of numerous world governments. Their agents travel with diplomatic passports."

"Will you work with Mulder and Scully, under them, I should say, to bring to light evidence of this conspiracy?"

"I will Mr. President."

"Dan, work with Agent Mulder to hand-pick his task force. I want these people stopped and brought to justice as soon as possible. We have other things we should be dealing with."

"Yes, Mr. President."

It had been an eventful conference. For his part, Marius had pledged the support of Luna and her Immortal denizens in the aid of the Anti-Consortium Task Force, as it was being called by Agent Scully. The two agents in question were given adjoining offices on Level 23, assigned a pair of assistants, and were set to work. Guards in the corridors were doubled, coming from the ranks of the Rainbow team that had been permanently assigned to the SGC, and from the Immortal Strike Teams. After several days of meetings and teleconferences with Director Murray, two dozen FBI agents, most fresh from the Academy, were assigned to work out of Peterson AFB, which was the nearest surface installation to the SGC. With the addition of SFs from various world militaries, both Peterson and Cheyenne were now impenetrable fortresses that a member of the Consortium would be insane to consider breaching.

Spender and his colleagues were still hurting somewhat from their first run in with Immortals. But they had the technology to travel to Luna and take more Immortals for their experiments. And this is what they attempted to do, shortly after word of the task force set up against them reached them via AD Kersh.

----------------------------------------

_**Luna Command Center**_

**_June 15th_**

"General Desiree? Satellites are picking up a ship, unknown configuration, headed our way."

"Any IFF?"

"Negative. Power source unknown. There doesn't appear to be any weapons, either. It's moving quite fast and headed directly for Dome Ryan."

"Alert security to expect intruders. Pass a message along to the _Daedalus_ and ask them for fighter support."

"Sir!"

The ship in question was of the same type the Consortium had been using for several years to fake the alien abductions. But while such ships were invisible to human based radar systems, they were very visible to the LIDAR systems employed by the Immortals and by the _Daedalus_. Before the unidentified craft in question could land, it was surrounded by F-302 fighters from the _Daedalus_. The pilots of the craft, seeing no alternative, landed in the open hangar near Dome Ryan and upon their disembarkation, were greeted by Immortal security.

"Greetings gentlemen. I am Mako. First Protector of Luna. Would you care to talk now? Or later at the SGC?"

"Foster, Paul B. Lieutenant. US Marine Corps. Serial number 2345761233."

"Bradley, John H. Major. US Marine Corps. Serial number 2345689988."

"Well, Lieutenant. Major. If you would come with me, we'll get you transferred down to the planet while some friends of mine take your ship apart."

----------------------------------------

"Marius."

"Hello, Mr. President."

"Marcus Constantine. Would you please stop calling me that? Every time some one does, I'm looking over my shoulder for Jack Ryan."

"Hehehe. Of course Marius. We've had a little incident here. Two men, claiming to be US Marine Corps, were captured attempting to land near Dome Ryan. They'll give nothing but name, rank, and serial number."

"Any idea why they were there?"

"Possibly to attempt the abduction of another Immortal. Both were armed with dart pistols. The darts in question are loaded with cyanide."

"Wonderful. Ok. Transfer them down here. Time for a little interrogation."

"Mako will ring down with them shortly."

----------------------------------------

Marius went off in search of Jack O'Neill. He found him in a meeting with General Hammond.

"Jack. General Hammond. I've just gotten off the comms with Constantine on Luna. Apparently, two men were captured attempting to gain access to Dome Ryan. They had in mind to abduct another Immortal, seeing as they were carrying pistols loaded with cyanide darts. Both men claim to be Marines."

"Oh that's not good. Where are they now?"

"Our First Protector, Mako, will be ringing down with them shortly."

"First Protector?"

"A translation of a title from Ancient Rome. Loosely translated, it means Chief of Police. And for Mako, a man that's been a US Marshall since that service was started, it was appropriate."

"Major Ramos to the Ring Room!"

"I think that's my cue, General. With your permission?"

"Of course. Jack? Go with him. Read them their rights. We'll convene an Article 32 as soon as possible."

"Yes sir!"

"Jack?"

"Marco?"

"What's an article 32?"

"The cursory investigation that leads to a full blown court martial."

"And what could these two men get, if they are convicted?"

"Kidnapping for the purposes of medical experimentation? Death penalty."

"Think we could use some of those Goa'uld memory devices on them? To help them with their memories of course."

"I think that can be arranged. Maybe a Zatarc test to verify the truth of their statements too."

"Oh man. I'd hate to be on your bad side."

----------------------------------------

"Mako. Friend. Are these the two miscreants that attempted to abduct one of my citizens?"

"They are indeed. These weapons were found on their person, and there was what appears to be a primitive stasis chamber in their ship. Their ship is like nothing I have seen. No wings. No discernible power source. No obvious weapons. Your staff on Luna said to tell you they will do all they can to learn about that ship."

"Excellent. Now, if you would escort these two gentlemen to the conference room, we can begin. Article 32, wasn't it Colonel?"

"That's correct, Major. The penalty for their crime is death by firing squad. And believe you me, I think just about everyone here will be volunteering for that duty."

"We might have to hold a lottery to decide who gets to pull the trigger. Ya know, if it were up to me, instead of wasting a bullet on these two, we could let an Immortal do it. Only an Immortal can properly remove someone's head so quickly and efficiently. It's what we do best, swords and duels. Do you not agree Protector Mako?"

"An excellent suggestion, Mr. President."

"I'll give that idea some thought. What do you two think of that? Death by firing squad or death by beheading. Tough choice if you ask me."

"Fuck off. I want a lawyer. I want to make a phone call."

"Lawyer eh? I suppose we'll have to call the JAG in on this. But I'm sure they'll recommend an article 32 on the issue in any case. Particularly since General Hammond is asking for one. Then it's off to the firing squad."

"For what? For kidnapping an alien? Hell, sir, they should be giving us medals for that!"

"Do I look like an alien to you son?"

"Well no. But that's not the point. All the things we could learn after dissecting one of your kind! Hell, they promised to inject me with the Immortality serum once they developed it!"

"Idiot child. One does not become Immortal because of an injection! One is either born to Immortality or not. There is no way of changing you into one otherwise. I shall enjoy your interrogation." Marius would indeed enjoy their interrogation.

----------------------------------------

"Chegwidden."

"AJ! You old son of a buck!"

"I'll be damned. George? Hell, man, it's been what, twenty years?"

"Something like that. Imagine my surprise when I call in to get a JAG only to find you at its helm. Long way from the teams, AJ."

"Yeah, well, I guess I couldn't stay twenty-something forever."

"Neither could I. Listen AJ, the reason I called is we need a JAG here. I've got two Marine Corps officers in custody on charges of attempted abduction."

"You want to convene an Article 32?"

"Yes. There are national security, hell, planetary security issues here AJ. The person or persons they attempted to abduct were residents of Luna."

"Immortals?"

"Yes. They have admitted to wanting the Immortal for medical experimentation."

"I see. Sounds pretty clear cut to me, George."

"I agree. However, we want whomever ordered these two to abduct an Immortal. We also want to know how they got their hands on an experimental space craft, the likes of which no one in any of the four branches will admit to ever seeing, let alone owning."

"Interesting and interesting. Alright George, I'll get my best team on the case. Where should I send them?"

"Peterson AFB. I'll have my XO meet them."

"Tell your XO to expect myself and my team. As this is the first case involving the military and Immortals, I want to make sure all the details are attended to."

"See you real soon AJ."

----------------------------------------

After the two prisoners had been escorted to secured quarters and Mako had returned to Luna, Marius placed a call to Luna to speak with Cierdwyn.

"Hello Cierdwyn."

"Marius. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"You've heard, I assume, of the my recent abduction?"

"Of course. I am glad that you were rescued."

"About that. I understand why what was done, was done. In their shoes, knowing nothing about Immortals and thinking I would be justified, I would have done the same thing. It's not the idea that I disagree with. It's the method. I was tortured. Repeatedly dissected while still alive. I've never hated mortals until this very moment. I'm doing all I can to deal with this, but some help might be necessary. I don't know what do, Cierdwyn."

"Want to schedule an appointment?"

"If you could, yes."

"I'll go down on the next shuttle."

"Thanks Cierdwyn."

"Anytime Mr. President."

"Stop that."

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_**Cheyenne Mountain**_

**_June 17th_**

The team of SG-1 was in the briefing room going over contact data brought back by SG-4 regarding their recent trip through the Stargate to a planet called Adelphi. It was to be a standard meet and greet. A blinding flash of light later and Thor sat at the head of the table.

"Thor! Buddy. How's it going?"

"It goes well O'Neill. General Hammond, please forgive my intrusion. There is a problem that you must address."

"What problem?"

"The Asgard High Council has been approached by Lord Yu. He is representing the Goa'uld Council of System Lords. Recently the Goa'uld Anubis joined forces with the enemy of the Colonials, the Cylons. An attack force of several hundred Goa'uld mother ships engaged in battle with the Cylon/Anubis forces, with the result being that less than a dozen mother ships survived the engagement. The Goa'uld Council has requested assistance from the Asgard in negotiating a temporary truce with Earth and her allies for the purpose of dealing with Anubis and the Cylon Empire. For this reason, we are asking all interested parties to attend an intergalactic conference. We would like for this conference to be held on Earth as we feel that other planets on the Protected Planets list who are at an approximate level of civilization as yours, would feel more at home."

"I will need to speak to my superiors about this. How can we contact you Thor?"

"I will leave a signal device with you. Contact me when you have an answer."

"One question Thor. How many will attend this conference?"

"Based on attendance at the last intergalactic conference, approximately two thousand worlds and empires will be represented."

"And that translates to how many?"

"Each delegation may send up to ten delegates, though only one can actually vote on conference matters. For this conference, we will also expect a delegation from the Colonials and one from the Immortals. While Earth may elect to send the full amount of delegates, the Asgard request that O'Neill be given the voting power on behalf of the Earth delegation."

"I will pass that along to my superiors."

"Thank you."

In a flash of light, Thor was gone, leaving six members of the SGC looking at one another. Needless to say, the mission to Adelphi was postponed until this new matter could be dealt with properly. General Hammond left the room to speak with the President to brief him on the news from the Asgard.

"Mr. President."

"General Hammond. This is becoming a habit. Good news or bad?"

"I would say good, sir. Thor of the Asgard High Council has just left us with a bit of rather interesting news. The last intergalactic conference was just late last year, yet they wish to call a new one. They want us to host it, sir."

"Us as in the SGC? Or us as in Earth?"

"Earth sir. Approximately two thousand delegations of up to ten members each. We'd need a small city to host that many people, sir."

"That's a lot of delegates. Alright. I'll get my people working on it. May I suggest General that all SG teams be recalled to serve as security forces for this conference?"

"An excellent idea, Mr. President. I'll ask Marius for additional security forces and of course all of our Battlecruisers and their fighter squadrons will be on hand to provide air interdiction duties."

"Good. I'll get back to you General."

----------------------------------------

_**White House**_

_**Oval Office**_

**_June 17th_**

"Arnie."

"Jack?"

"That was General Hammond at Stargate Command. They've just had a visit from the Asgard. They want Earth to host an intergalactic conference to deal with a new threat."

"What sort of threat?"

"Apparently, Anubis and the Cylons have joined forces. They've already wiped out a Goa'uld task force. The survivors of that battle went to the Asgard and asked them to approach us about a temporary truce to fight this new threat."

"So how many delegates are we talking here? A dozen? A hundred?"

"Uhm, no. Two thousand member worlds and empires. Each with one voting delegate. But each delegate can have a staff of up to nine members."

"That's. That's, Jack, that's twenty thousand people!"

"True. And we have two weeks to put everything together."

"Oh shit! It takes a lot longer to put something like that together! Two weeks?"

"That's what the man said."

"Any ideas, Jack?"

"How many cities in the US are geared towards conventions? While New York or DC would be nice, securing either of these two would be a nightmare. Two nightmares even."

"Vegas?"

"Maybe. Get the governor of Nevada and the Mayor of Las Vegas on a secure line, Arnie."

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Call is ready Jack."

"Governor Mitchell? Mayor Thomas?"

"Mr. President. Your Chief of Staff tells us that we may be of some assistance to you?"

"I have a rather tall order to fill gentlemen and I sincerely hope that you may be able to fill it."

"Ask away sir."

"You are familiar with the press conference some five months ago regarding extraterrestrial life? Yes? Good. One of our allies has requested that Earth host an intergalactic conference. We can expect up to twenty thousand visitors."

"The city of Las Vegas can handle that easily, Mr. President."

"Gentlemen, there is also a time factor involved here. We have two weeks until the conference begins and we can expect it to run for a week to ten days."

"Two weeks!"

"That is correct Mr. Mayor."

----------------------------------------

_**That evening**_

_**Peterson AFB**_

**_June 17th_**

The briefing by Admiral Chegwidden earlier that day had been less than informative. Commander Harmon Rabb and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie had been rushed all day briefing two others on their current case load and then rushed home to pack and grab a suitcase apiece before driving out to Andrews where they would meet Admiral Chegwidden for the flight to Peterson. All they knew was that two Marine Corps officers had been arrested on Luna and charged with the attempted abduction of an Immortal. The Pentagon had passed this call along to Adm. Chegwidden in the hopes that such a high profile case could be handled quietly. In point of fact, the case was passed along to Admiral Chegwidden before Spender and his associates could intervene.

But still, it was too early to tell how the case would go. First up was the requisite Article 32 Investigation and based on the results of that, the trial counsel would recommend further actions to the JAG. The convening authority here was the Air Force in the guise of one Major General George S. Hammond. And while the two men in question had not violated the UCMJ per se, they had violated an international treaty. Or was that an interplanetary treaty? As their plane pulled to a stop, the three officers could see a man waiting for them on the ramp. He was standing besides a Hummer and holding a rather large umbrella as it was raining this night.

"Admiral Chegwidden?"

"Yes?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill. If you'll follow me, I'll escort you down to the mountain to see General Hammond."

"After you Colonel."

"Colonel O'Neill, do you work with any of these Immortals?"

"I do, ma'am. I have one of them on my team."

"And what team would that be?"

"SG-1."

"The flagship team? The first team created?"

"Correct Commander."

"Why didn't the Air Force JAG want to try this case?"

"The SGC, as you'll soon learn, has teams from every branch of the US military and teams from numerous countries. The General heard you were the best and he wanted the best for this case. It's the first case of its kind and it's my understanding that the two men in custody, well, we want to know who gave them their orders. They haven't cracked yet."

"You've questioned them?"

"Not to worry, Commander. We had an attorney present just to make sure they weren't coerced or anything like that. The attorney in question is Major Stan Kovacek and he is the CO of SG-9, our diplomatic contact team."

"The two men were captured on Luna, correct?"

"Yep. Their spacecraft is unlike any we've ever seen. They thought they were being cute with their stealth tech. But what they failed to realize is that our sensors are decidedly more advanced than anything currently in use on Earth. The C&C on Luna had them the minute they left Earth. We had them surrounded as they pulled to a hover outside Dome Ryan on Luna."

"Dome Ryan? Is that named for the President?"

"I'm not sure. Ah, here we are. Airman, take these bags down to the VIP rooms on level 23. This way please. General Hammond is down on level 26."

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_**Level 23**_

_**Offices of Mulder and Scully**_

_**June 18**_

"Can you believe the nerve they had to try and pull off a second abduction?"

"I think, Scully, that Spender is getting nervous. This whole SGC/Colonial/Immortal thing has got to be a serious kink in his plans. Before the President's announcement, he only had to worry about the Grays and the odd rebel colonist and bounty hunter. Now he's got a whole other mess on his plate."

"He's thinking of ways to get his hands on a symbiote I would guess."

"That would not be a good thing."

Reports from their task force agents were coming in daily. With an Executive Order to give them credibility in their search for the truth and real help from the CIA, they were obtaining more and more evidence that would prove damning in court, should this ever come to trial. Already, they had learned, the Immortal Council had issued a decree to bring evidence of this conspiracy to light. As promised, a small team of Immortals were assigned to help them with the search. Felicia Martins, John Cage, and Paul Kinman had requested and been assigned to the ACTF. Each brought unique abilities to the task force and each had contacts with various criminal organizations that could obtain the information for them. Where information could not be obtained legally, it was stolen by Felicia. When any member of the task force needed to get out of a situation in a hurry, either Cage or Kinman were available to make the pick-up.

The members of the Consortium were finding, much to their dismay, their sources of funding drying up as governments around the world began serious house cleanings to ferret out the sources of monetary support the Consortium had obtained over the previous five decades.

----------------------------------------

_**Las Vegas**_

_**Office of the Mayor**_

**_June 18th_**

"Mr. Mayor, what you are asking is overwhelming! It takes a year to plan a major conference and you want us to do it in two weeks?"

"Sue, the President is counting on us. My suggestion is to let the hotels do what they do best. You've got a dozen staff members on your Conventions committee to help you out. Get together with the heads of the hotels and lay it out for them. You'll also need to figure out crowd control procedures. As much as I'd like to meet an alien, somehow I doubt our citizens want that. Too much fear in them instilled by Hollywierd. So we need to cordon off a big section of the strip and place all manner of checkpoints there. Tell the hotels, that for the duration of the conference, their employees will have to remain in-house. That should alleviate some of the bottlenecks at the checkpoints. Get to work Sue. We have far too little time to pull off something of this nature."

"Yes Mr. Mayor. I'll get right on it."

----------------------------------------

_**Next Afternoon**_

_**Conference room**_

**_June 19th_**

With over one hundred thousand hotel rooms available in Las Vegas, it was a city that was definitively suited to conventions. But unlike the normal conventions and conferences that usually took place in that city, this one would bring together delegates from places other than Earth. At this first meeting were the representatives from every major hotel in Las Vegas, along with consultants from the police department, the sheriff's department, and the local national guard battalion. It was a daunting task that lay before them. Already they had planned to use several of the smaller hotels as living quarters for the vast numbers of hospitality staff the other hotels would need. A first draft of the plan had a sizeable portion of the Strip closed off and a total of thirty hotels within the closed off section. Each delegation was to have a total of twenty rooms at its disposal.

It took them the better part of thirty hours over a two day period to come up with what they thought of as a workable plan. The day following the end of the initial planning sessions, Susan Meyers, the woman Mayor Thomas had placed in charge of this conference reported back on the committee's progress. The amount of manpower required staggered the Mayor and he immediately put in a call to Governor Mitchell who pledged the support of the Nevada National Guard to help police the Conference area.

Governor Mitchell placed a call of his own later that day to President Ryan and informed him that the task could be done, but only with a lot of help. Mitchell informed Ryan that he would be activating select National Guard units in Nevada to help the Las Vegas law enforcement agencies with their duties.

----------------------------------------

_**Level 23**_

_**Offices of Mulder and Scully**_

**_June 22nd_**

Very early that morning, information had come to them via the Lone Gunmen of a possible location for a meeting the upper echelons of the Consortium would be holding in New York City. It had been pure luck that one of their search routines had chanced upon an unsecured email regarding security concerns for this meeting. Information in hand, they had called Mulder on his cell phone and he in turn had called in Scully.

From their office in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, they had placed calls to their agents in the field. The meeting was scheduled for seven thirty that evening. It gave barely enough time to plan and stage the raid. Information in hand, Mulder briefed General Hammond, and requested a strike team be readied to move in on the meeting and round up those present. General Hammond assented to the request and the two Immortal strike teams were readied.

They wanted to capture as many of the Consortium members alive and so the strike teams would be issued Zat guns and Intar loaded weapons. The Intars gave much the same result as a Zat except that more than one shot would not kill the target. Or vaporize it.

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**_West 46th Street_**

_**New York City**_

_**1910 hours**_

**_June 22nd_**

The Immortal strike teams were in place. They had as backup two SG teams, and one Rainbow team. Slowly the two teams moved into place and at fifteen past the hour they were ready to pounce on their targets. No one had agreed with Marius' role in the plan, yet he had insisted. They had identified the room where the meeting was taking place and the first part of the raid went into action. Marius activated his own personal force shield and then ringed down into the meeting room.

"Greetings gentlemen. And ladies. I must say, I am surprised it was so easy to find you. Did you not think the warning passed along by the Ancients to the leaders of this world was meant for you? Did you think you could operate with impunity and take any Immortal anywhere for your devious experiments? Well? Have you anything to say before I pronounce judgment on all of you?" He had withdrawn his sword as he made this last statement.

It was Spender who spoke for all of them.

"I do not know how you came to find us here. What we have done is for the betterment of man kind. You are not one of us. You are a mere aberration on human kind. A mutation that should be put down once and for all. If we can not control you, then no one should have the benefit of your presence. You can not be in two places at once, even if you are Immortal. You may be here, but others of our group are at this moment taking into custody the children of President Ryan. If you value their lives at all, you will surrender now."

Outside, the assembled raiders had heard all that was transpiring within. One of the Rainbow troopers put out an urgent call to the Secret Service and alerted them to the threat against the President's children.

"I see. Well then, as I have no other option. I will surrender."

It was the go word they had agreed upon. Duncan's team moved in first, taking the guards around the perimeter easily. With the perimeter secured, the two SG teams moved in to take over Duncan's positions. Then Duncan's and Alex's teams surged ahead into the club on West 46th Street.

"But before I do surrender, you never did answer my question. Why are you doing this?"

Spender would not get the chance to answer that question except in a courtroom. Suddenly the room was filled with Zat and Intar fire and before Spender could utter another word, he was down on the ground, the victim of six Intar shots. All in all, it had been a very successful raid. A dozen guards had been taken, quite alive, along with the man known as Spender. In the meeting room, they had captured in addition to Spender, four men and two women. But one of the men had pressed a silent alarm switch and by the time the prisoners were being moved outside, the address on West 46th Street had been surrounded by dozens of police cars from the New York City police department.

As the police shouted for them to put their weapons down and their hands up, several shuttles decloaked, startling a few policemen into opening fire on the shuttles. Shouts of 'Cease fire!' reverberated throughout the previously quiet neighborhood as the lead officers from the NYPD struggled to get a grip on the situation. The prisoners had been knocked to the ground by the Immortals on the strike teams and those same Immortals were now surrounded by two heavily armed SG teams and one rather ticked off Rainbow team. Angry because these police officers had fired on their ride home.

One police officer, the ranking lieutenant on the scene, shouted out his orders.

"Put your weapons down now!"

To which Major Domingo Chavez of the Rainbow team returned with "You first!"

A stalemate. No one on the ACTF wanted to shoot at the police officers as they were just doing their jobs. As for the police, what they saw were the heavier weapons worn by these commandoes. They did not want to fire either, if only because they were afraid of what those heavier weapons would do to them. One of the shuttles landed disgorging several men and one woman. One of the men picked up a bullhorn and made his presence known to one and all.

"Attention. I am Special Agent Mulder of the FBI. You are interfering with a matter of planetary security. Please lower your weapons so that we may move these prisoners to a secure facility."

"Agent Mulder. I am Lieutenant Rodgers of the New York City police department. Until this matter is resolved to our satisfaction, no one will be allowed to leave this area. Now, please put your weapons down, or we will be forced to open fire."

And while all of this was occurring, one of the shuttle pilots had radioed back to the SGC and was broadcasting to them the events below. General Hammond picked up the Red Phone again and spoke to the President and told him the current situation. It happened that Jack Ryan had been in a conference at that moment with Director Murray of the FBI and so he placed General Hammond on speaker phone. As soon as Dan Murray learned of the current events, he moved to grab another phone to call the SAC in New York City. Within moments of that call, forty-odd agents of the New York FBI field office were out the door and rushing to the scene of the standoff.

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**_West 46th Street_**

_**New York City**_

_**1930 hours**_

**_June 22nd _**

More and more police units had taken up positions at the scene of this standoff. They were supported now by a full SWAT team that had deployed into the nearby buildings into over watch positions. Each SWAT sniper now had a heavily armed commando in his sights. With a screech of tires and a blaring of sirens, several more vehicles pulled up. One of the snipers remarked to another, 'Oh great. More feds.'

"Lieutenant Rodgers, I presume?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"SAC Daniel Chalmers, New York Field Office. A bit of a situation here I believe?"

"Who the hell called you?"

"The President called me, sir, because you are interfering with the capture of several wanted terrorists. Now, if you would kindly call off your personnel, we can complete our work here and leave."

"The fuck you say! I'm not taking your word for it! My men and I will stay here until I hear otherwise from my superiors."

"Such an unfortunate attitude."

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"Murray."

"Sir. SAC Chalmers, sir. The local on-scene police commander, one Lieutenant Rodgers, has informed me that until he learns otherwise from his superiors, he will continue to hold our personnel hostage. He has been most impolite and colorful in his word usage. Your orders sir?"

"Stand by one."

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"Mayor's Office. How my I help you?"

"I must speak with Mayor Santorelli, please."

"Is this an emergency?"

"Yes."

"Who shall I say is calling?"

"Daniel Murray, Director of the FBI."

"One moment please Mr. Murray."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. Murray? To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Mr. Mayor, we have a small problem that we hope you can assist us with."

"Who's 'we'?"

"I'm sitting here with President Ryan. We have a small situation on West 46th street. Our domestic terrorism teams went in to capture some criminals plotting against the United States and it seems that someone called the local police. Now your police officers have responded and are presently in a stand off with my people. We have the suspects in custody, however, your police department is interfering with their responsibilities. My agent on the scene, SAC Chalmers, reports that your senior officer on the scene and his personnel have numerous weapons pointed at my people."

"I see. And you found it unnecessary to co-ordinate with our people I assume?"

"There was no time, Mr. Mayor. We received a tip that these criminals would be at that location only a few hours ago. And due to the very sensitive nature of the matter, we found it best to inform as few people as possible, lest these criminals get away yet again."

"And what sort of charges do you expect to be brought against these 'criminals'?"

"Treason among others."

"Very well, I will contact the police commissioner and ask him to call off his men. In the future we ask that you co-ordinate any further actions with our civilian authorities before hand, Mr. Murray."

"Mr. Mayor. This is Jack Ryan. Do you know who I am?"

"Of course. You're the guy who's President now. I wouldn't have voted for you then and I sure as heck won't vote for you now."

"I see. May I ask why you are being so rude to my people?"

"Mr. President. If that's who you really are, there is a protocol for this type of phone call. The Director of the FBI doesn't just pick up a phone and call my office. In fact, I don't really believe you are who you say you are and so I think I will postpone contacting the commissioner until I have some proof. Can't be to careful these days."

"I see. Thank you for your ti…Hello?"

----------------------------------------

"He just hung up on me! I don't believe that guy!"

"You and me both Dan. Arnie? What are my options in this situation?"

"Don't support him on his next election campaign. With your permission, I'm gonna leak a copy of this conversation to a few choice individuals. Like maybe a couple of certain Senators."

"Whatever you think is best Arnie. But back to our problem here. If the Mayor won't lend us his support, then what?"

"Dispatch agents from every federal agency we have in New York City to assist those already on the scene. If that doesn't work, ask for a limited force deployment, in a support role of course."

"Oh of course. Deploy military troops into one of our largest cities. The press will love me for that, Arnie. Make it happen with the civilian agencies first, Arnie."

"Of course, Mr. President."

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_**New York City**_

_**Site of the Standoff**_

**_June 22nd_**

_**1955 hours**_

As had happened shortly before, a multitude of sirens and screeching tires announced the arrival of even more Federal agents. All of them with the express orders to support the agents already on the scene. Above the scene, the three helicopters of the NYPD were joined by two from the FBI, three from the ATF, and two from the Secret Service. All this made matters worse and now arriving on the scene was the police commissioner along with the Mayor. The only orders the police commissioner had for Lieutenant Rodgers were to take everyone into custody. Anyone that resisted would be brought up on charges.

"SAC Chalmers? I have orders to arrest everyone here. Please surrender your weapons and come along peacefully."

"Excuse me? You're going to arrest me? What the hell!"

The teams that had taken into custody the members of the Consortium were of course watching all these events. It came as a huge surprise to them that they were to be arrested and their captives taken to a temporary holding facility until such time as an investigation could take place into whatever they had been charged with by the government. To the pilots in the support shuttles, the orders they heard to arrest everyone below them came as a shock. Requests for instructions were passed up the line to the SGC who in turn passed them up the line to the President.

In spite of everything going on around them, the members of the Consortium were secretly pleased that the Mayor of New York had remembered them. They had assisted him in his election campaign and now he was repaying that assistance. It paid well to have politicians under their control. But this man who called himself President of the United States, he would have to take great pains to make sure that man knew his place in the days to come. Yes, Spender thought, I shall greatly enjoy teaching John Patrick Ryan a lesson he will not soon forget. And if all is going according to plan, Krycek should now have Ryan's children in his greedy hand.

The order came back fairly quickly. Prevent the local civilian authorities, the NYPD, from interfering with the capture of the Consortium members. On the ground, Intars were raised and aimed at the dozens of police officers. A final request was made by Agent Mulder.

"Lieutenant Rodgers, my superiors have ordered me to stop this stand off. If you do not put your weapons down, we will be forced to open fire."

"You have your orders Agent Mulder, and I have mine. If you fire on us, we will defend ourselves."

Behind them, more vehicles were now pulling up. Media vehicles. The situation had gone from private disaster to public fiasco. A media feeding frenzy was not anyone's desire. Cameras were setup and the news feed went out live to the world, interrupting scheduled programming.

Another shuttle appeared in the skies above the stand off. This one was a new prototype coming directly from the Luna Shipyard. What looked like a gun deployed from the nose portion of the shuttle and a flash of light later, the area around the strike teams was secured via a projected force field. The shuttles landed and took aboard the members of the strike teams and their prisoners, leaving the NYPD unable to do anything to stop them. Any shots they fired at them, simply went nowhere, held in place by the force field. Lieutenant Rodgers could do nothing except stand by and watch as the shuttles lifted and sped off westward.

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**_June 23rd_**

_**0830 hours**_

_**Luna**_

Marius had already been briefed on the situation of late yesterday and the capture of several of these so called Consortium members. The surprise had come to Director Murray when he had learned the names of the major players in the Consortium. Two assistant directors and one agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, a US Senator, a special assistant to the UN Secretary General, along with the titular head of the Consortium, one C.G.B. Spender, had all been arrested. A seventh person in the name of Alex Krycek was still being sought after an aborted attempt to kidnap members of the President's family.

Dr. Mitch Guerra, Marius' assistant on the force field project, and now head of special projects on Luna had spent nearly a week examining the ship used by the two Consortium members in their attempt to kidnap an Immortal. The crew compartment, he said, was sealed off from the rest of the ship using lead. Apparently the engines used to power the alien-like vessel gave off tremendous amounts of radiation and without the lead screens in place, any pilots would be dead within hours. The fact that they had planned on placing the kidnapped Immortal into a compartment without lead screens said much for the Consortium's regard for life, human or otherwise. Just now on his agenda he had a meeting with Cierdwyn.

"Come in Cierdwyn, come in. Some coffee? Tea?"

"Some tea would be nice, sir."

"Here for my session?" he asked as he poured two cups of tea.

"That's why I'm here Marius. Marcus sends his best, and asks that you retrieve your cell phone from Ms. Halliwell, before your bill becomes most outrageous."

"Oh damn. In all the excitement, I'd forgotten all about her. Why does she have my cell phone?"

"Because you were kidnapped in front of her home. She saw the men bundling you into their van. And she found your cell phone where you had dropped it midway into your conversation with Marcus. Because of that, and because of what she saw, Marcus was able to get the ball rolling much sooner than would have been possible.

"As to your other problem, might I suggest a friendly conversation with Cassandra? While I won't go into details, suffice to say that the cause of her Immortality was fairly traumatic. And as I understand it, your Piper Halliwell, according to Cassandra, is also a witch?"

"Apparently so. Just when I thought I had a handle on every form of life or un-life on this planet, it goes and throws me a curve ball."

"That's one way of putting it. Take a few days off Marius. It will be good for you. If need be, I'll write it out as a prescription."

"Not necessary. I know better than to go against my Doc."

"You are indeed a wise man, Marius."

"Thanks Doc. Now for something else. You are aware of the upcoming intergalactic conference? Good. I would like you join me there as part of my staff. I am going to need your insights on the minds of the Goa'uld. In fact, I wonder if you would consider working with Agent Mulder to develop a series of papers on why the Goa'uld act the way they do. The Goa'uld and the Tok'ra. When we can understand them better, perhaps we'll be able to work with them?"

"I've read a few of Agent Mulder's monographs. He is a gifted psychologist. I would be happy to work with him."

"Thanks Cierdwyn. And now, I'm afraid I have much work to do. The conference is in little less than a week."

"Of course Mr. President."

"I really wish people would stop calling me that."

"But you are our President, are you not?"

"Yes, but it is not a position I have ever aspired to. Remind sometime to tell you of the scandals and conspiracies of the Roman Senate. Perhaps, someday, I could actually publish my memoirs?"

"Anything is possible in this new era for us, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------

_**Mars**_

_**Chamber of the Council of Twelve**_

**_June 23rd_**

_**0830 hours**_

"President Tigh. The Council has made it's decision. Five of us will join you for this intergalactic conference. Have you made your own choices?"

"Yes. I have chosen Apollo, Sheba, Dr. Salik, and Starbuck, to accompany me. With the five you have chosen, we now have our delegation completed. Whom have you chosen?"

"Sire Uri. Sire Boreas. Siress Metis. Siress Hera. We have chosen Architect Ryos to accompany us to Earth as he is the one who will build our new city on this world. He has expressed an interest in the possibility of seeing first hand, the various architectures of Earth."

"Thank you, Sire Nereus. We stand in adjournment until six days from now when we shall gather here prior to proceeding to the hangar bays. I ask that you take into consideration that we will be on Earth up to two of their weeks and that you pack all you deem necessary and essential for this event."

Tigh had been gone only a few moments when Sire Uri recognized Ryos, chief architect for his report.

"Assembled members of the Council. I thank you for allowing me to accompany you to Earth for this Conference. I am most anxious to see a few of the places we have been shown via their primitive audio-visual recordings. I say primitive because in that respect, as in so many others, our Earthly brethren are millennia behind us. It is true that their computron technology is much more advanced than ours, yet with the exception of those in the organization called Stargate Command, Earthers had until very recently used primitive space craft to travel to their only satellite. The Thirteenth tribe settled here many thousands of yahrens ago, yet they are even more primitive than our own colonies were five millennia ago. Why is this? Another thing that has come to my attention is the disparity among the peoples of Earth. Whereas we had twelve colony worlds and one form of government, they have one world, with dozens of forms of government. In some areas of Earth, there is food and land in abundance, in other areas, food is scarce and land is at a premium. Why is this so? I firmly believe that we should do away with the treaty that Apollo and Tigh have wrought for us and move to Earth. This dusty red world that we inhabit; it will be decades before we can walk on the surface without protective clothing. Why must we wait? Members of the Council, if you have the opportunity to discuss these issues with the Earth representatives while we are at this conference, I implore you to do so. Thank you for the time allotted to me."

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_**Cheyenne Mountain**_

_**Office of Mulder and Scully**_

**_June 23rd_**

_**0830 hours**_

It was a strange feeling for Mulder. A decade of his life spent chasing these men and now they were in custody. All the training, all the investigations, all the hopes and dreams; it all led to this one moment. The prisoners had been transferred late the previous evening to a holding facility at Peterson AFB and now, in the accompaniment of two JAG officers and the JAG himself, Mulder and Scully were on their way there to see the prisoners first hand. Though Mulder had been in on the raid the prior night, he had not yet seen the prisoners as they had been brought out of the building with hoods over their heads. A quick glance by him at the prisoners revealed that all had their arms. A certain one armed bastard was missing.

It had been a close thing. President Ryan had no idea how close he had come to losing his children. Krycek had been in the White House, in the living areas, when he had noticed all of the extra security and that certain members of the detail were now carrying very strange looking weapons. Too much security. Too much risk, well, too much extra risk. He scrubbed his mission and left the way he came, via a service tunnel the Consortium had once built when they had access to previous residents of the building. Time to lay low for a few days, then contact Spender. He did not realize just how impossible that task would prove to be.

But for Mulder and Scully, the feeling was one of elation and relief. The evidence against the Consortium was overwhelming, yet each knew that such things could never be said in a court of law. If the truth were to come out, it would topple at least a dozen world governments, including the fragile one that Ryan was attempting to rebuild. No, the world could never know what these men had done. It was a complex quandary of stellar proportions.

A conclusion that had already been reached by Admiral Chegwidden. Even a military court would not be a place to try these people, if one could call them that. The CIA had been forthcoming for once, and details of how the Consortium interacted with a certain civilian agency by name of NID had come to light. The fact that Senator Kinsey was presumed dead as only small DNA fragments had been found only meant that the NID would be on a chopping block very soon, what with no more high level protection for its agents or for the agency.

A conclusion that was in the process of being reached by one President Ryan. The preliminary reports were on his desk. No way could these truths ever come out. Well, not now in any case. Maybe in a couple hundred years. The actions undertaken by these people had global implications. Had their plan come to fruition, it is likely that every living person on Earth would have been killed or enslaved. Their plan, wrought on a global scale, seemed all too similar to the Goa'uld's plan of galactic control. How to try them? Regardless of their guilt or innocence, these men were US citizens, entitled to the rights therein. A trial by their peers?

Such a thing would be a sham trial. The minute the jury heard the evidence, they'd vote to convict. The evidence was that solid. Yet he could not, in good conscience subject any group of twelve honest men and women to such evidence. Human experimentation. Cloning. Abductions. Murders. Treaties with extraterrestrial parties. All in the name of saving their own skins. But what to do about this? Jack was at an impasse. He needed advice.

"Mulder."

"Agent Mulder, stand by for the President of the United States."

Mulder gulped. Yes he had spoken at length with the President on two previous occasions, but the man had never called him directly. Those two prior conversations had been as part of the task force. Mulder sat down and reached for his cup of coffee.

"Agent Mulder. First allow me to congratulate you and your team for bringing these people to justice. I will sleep better tonight knowing that these men and women are behind bars awaiting trial. And that brings me to my next problem."

"Problem, Mr. President?"

The minute he spoke those three words, the others in the room, his partner and the three from JAG, sat a bit more at attention.

"Yes, problem. The evidence that your teams have gathered; it's more than good enough, in my opinion, to put these men and women away for a very long time. But if word of their actions gets out, we'll have a global panic on our hands. The things these people did, it's…, it's… inhuman."

"On that we are in full agreement sir. What they did was and is inhuman and no jury, civilian or military, should ever have to hear the details. In fact, my self and the JAG team had just reached that same conclusion, Mr. President. The question is, what do we do now?"

"A question I am attempting to answer myself, Agent Mulder."

"Mr. President, with your permission, I will talk to a few people here at the SGC. Perhaps they can come up with a solution?"

"Perhaps. Very well then, Fox. Please see that to that."

"Yes, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------

"So the President came to the same conclusion that we did, Agent Mulder?"

"I'm afraid so, Admiral. Now we have the rather unusual order of finding a way to try these bastards for all they've done. And it can never become public. I don't agree with that, but then again, I don't agree that this information should ever be made public. For once, I think the rules of secrecy are a good thing."

"I never thought I'd live to see this day Mulder."

"What day, Scully."

"The day you'd see that classified material exists for a reason. And I agree with you. No one should ever have to hear of what was done to me, among others."

"Ok. Then let us do this. Admiral, if you and your people would head over to Peterson and obtain statements from those 'arrested' last night, that would be helpful. Scully, join them please and help to keep Spender and his cronies somewhat honest?"

"Sure Mulder. But what are you going to do?"

"Talk to Hammond. Maybe talk to some of the Immortals on base. See if they can shed some light on this dilemma."

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_**Office of General Hammond**_

_**0900 hours**_

"Come!"

"General, uhm, if you have a few minutes?"

"Come in Agent Mulder. Have a seat. Coffee?"

"Uhm, yeah, that would be good. I assume you've read over the reports the task force has prepared?"

"I have. The evidence looks pretty solid to me. Should be easy to get a conviction for all of them."

"Well, therein lies the problem. In all good conscience, none of us want to subject a civilian jury or a military panel to this type of evidence. Bad enough that I have bad dreams most nights. I can't think of any reason why I should subject others to that fate."

"Most military personnel, particularly those in special operations, have the same types of dreams Agent. But I see where you are going with this. What did Admiral Chegwidden have to say about your conclusions?"

"Actually, he agreed. As did President Ryan. So now we are faced with a new dilemma. How to try these men and women in a court of law without telling the entire story. More to the point, what do we do with them once they are convicted. In my opinion, prison life would be too good for them. And we can only execute them once."

"A shame, that. I take it you need an idea?"

"Any idea would be helpful.."

"Well, we can't ask the Immortals to be impartial as these Consortium types did try to take some of their own. And asking the Colonials would not be right as they have enough problems to deal with on their own. I think I may have an idea. But I'm not sure how it will play out."

"I'm all ears, sir."

"One of our off-world allies, the Tollan, have an interesting form of trial called a Triad. It boils down to a prosecutor, a defender, and a neutral third party. I suppose we could ask them for their assistance in this matter. But they don't have the death penalty."

"Death would be too good for them, sir."

"It would. But perhaps permanent exile could be arranged somewhere?"

"A small dark rock would be nice."

"Allow me to make a request of the Tollan, Agent Mulder. I'll get back to you as soon as we have some word from them."

"Sounds right to me, sir."

After agent Mulder left his office, General Hammond placed a call to Luna.

"This is General Hammond at the SGC. I need to speak with President Augustus."

"Of course, sir. One moment."

"Marius."

"Major Ramos. General Hammond here. I have a request that you might be able to fill for us."

"Of course General. How can I be of assistance?"

"You have a construction crew in the asteroid field, correct?"

"That's correct, sir."

"You think you could find a smallish asteroid for us? One that would serve as a prison for seven, possibly ten, prisoners?"

"For the Consortium prisoners, I assume?"

"That is correct. For the remainder of their lives, they'll need to be able to sustain themselves, but they should have no contact whatsoever with the outside."

"I think we can create something to that effect. Give me a few hours to work out the details, sir."

"Right. I'll get back to you at say, 1600?"

"Sounds good, sir."

His next call would be slightly more long distance. To the Tollan home world of Tollana.

"Sergeant, dial up Tollana and get SG-9 on the ramp and ready for a mission."

"Yes sir!"

Maybe five minutes passed before SG-9 appeared in the embarkation room, in full gear, ready to go. They were surprised that General Hammond would be accompanying them. Major Kovacek spoke.

"Sir?"

"I will be joining you for this mission to Tollana, Major. We need a favor from the Tollan."

"Of course sir. After you sir."

It was perhaps the fourth time that General Hammond had been through the gate. It never ceased to amaze him. Though a scientist would swear that once the item passing through the event horizon had dematerialized it could neither see nor experience anything therein, the General would swear he saw a myriad of colors racing by as he entered the gate on Earth and stepped out into the cool evening air of Tollana. Major Kovacek spoke to one of the Tollan guards, and a short time later, Narim appeared.

"General Hammond. Welcome to Tollana. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I must speak with High Chancellor Travell. It is an urgent matter."

"Of course. Please, this way."

"SG-9, stay here."

Narim thought it odd that only a few days before the interplanetary conference that General Hammond himself would come to Tollana. Whatever vexed the man must be indeed important for him to come. And to come without the presence of SG-1 no less! But his questions would be resolved shortly, he hoped.

The walk was not far. The Tollan had rebuilt most of their city in the wake of the attack by Anubis. Had it not been for the Asgard who intervened on their behalf, Hammond felt sure he would not be standing here today. As he mused on this, he and Narim passed into the chambers of the Curia.

"High Chancellor Travell."

"General Hammond. I had not expected to see you before the Conference next week. Is there a problem?"

"I need some advice. You have helped us a time or two before, particularly with Klorel/Skaara, and well, I need advice. It is a legal matter."

"Of course! How may I assist you?"

"You recall mentions of a group called NID in the past yes? The ones responsible for stealing technology from you and the Asgard, among others?"

"Yes, I do recall those incidents. Is the NID stealing again?"

"No. Recently information about another group of humans on our world came to light. They call themselves 'Immortals' and that is exactly what they are."

"Immortal? As in they live longer lives than you?"

"Immortal as in the oldest among them is approximately ten thousand Earth years old. Earth signed an agreement with the Immortals to keep them safe from experimentation. A group of Earth men, however, did not honor that agreement. To make a long story short, these are the same men responsible for the creation of the NID. We have captured them, but find ourselves in a complex situation. If word of their atrocities were to become public knowledge, there would be riots and widespread chaos. The very people that we, the military, are sworn to protect would rise up against us. The crimes these men and women committed, they turn even my stomach, ma'am, and I know that if we were to try them in any court on Earth, there would be no way to keep such proceedings a secret."

"What crimes will they be charged with?"

"The list is long and varied, but it boils down to abduction, genetic experimentation, and murder."

"I see. You realize, General Hammond, that if they were to be tried on Tollana, that there could be no possibility of a sentence of death."

"I realize that. We are prepared to exile them, permanently. But we will not take the chance that they will escape, so we are preparing a prison asteroid for them to live out their lives."

"I see. In the interest of friendship and with the hopes of building a long lasting relationship with Earth, I offer the option of Triad to you, General Hammond. Have you someone in mind for the role of Archon?"

"There are two matters here. One is that these criminals acted with malice aforethought in regards to the Immortals. Another is that they have committed numerous crimes against humanity."

"So there must be two Triads."

"Possibly, though we do hope to have only one. For the Triad involving Immortals, I would think the leader of the Immortals would act as archon on behalf of his people. For the Triad involving Earth in general, I will ask our highest ranking military attorney to become archon on behalf of the peoples of Earth. The other seeker will undoubtedly have their own archon, though I would ask someone from Tollan be present to assist their archon in matters of procedure."

"Agreed. What about the neutral archon?"

"I have no idea. Perhaps you can suggest someone?"

"I think we can find someone objective enough for you. It is agreed General Hammond. Tollana will host these two Triads for you."

"I thank you High Chancellor Travell. I look forward to seeing you at the Conference in a week's time."

----------------------------------------

_**Office of General Hammond**_

_**1645 hours**_

"Come!"

"General, did you get a chance to speak with the Tollan?"

"I did, agent Mulder. They have agreed to host the Triad. Two Triads to be specific. One with the Immortals and the Consortium, another with Earth and the Consortium. I am fairly certain of the outcome, and have asked President Augustus to design a prison asteroid."

"That is excellent news, sir!"

"It is indeed. Now we only have to inform the prisoners of the location for trial. High Chancellor Travell of the Tollan has given to us two copies of their procedures for the triad. One will stay here, where the JAG team can review it. Another will be given to whatever attorney the prisoners choose. I am allowing one copy to be made which will be forwarded to Luna, so their representative can acquaint himself with the procedures."

"Sounds good. You want me to take the manual down to Admiral Chegwidden and his team?"

"Yes, thank you."

----------------------------------------

**_June 25th_**

_**San Francisco**_

The intergalactic conference was scheduled to start in less than a week's time, but Marius and Cassandra were in a shuttle flying down to San Francisco. The shuttle pilot had explicit orders from the Immortal Council not to land anywhere longer than necessary to load or unload passengers. He was to remain aloft at all times and he was to maintain a lock on the President at all times. The shuttle came down fast, and hovered for a few minutes in the street in front of the Halliwell home. Marius and Cassandra jumped down the final foot to the ground before the door irised closed behind them and the shuttle shot straight up into the sky only to go into a hover about fifty meters off the ground. Then it cloaked.

They walked up to the door and Marius knocked. But someone altogether unexpected answered the door.

"Hello?"

"Uhm, is Piper available?"

"Who's asking?"

"Marius."

"Let me go and get her. Wait right there."

"Piper?"

"Leo?"

"There's a man at your door asking for you. Marius?"

"Oh! I didn't think he'd come back so soon!"

"Who's Marius? And more to the point, why is there the most powerful witch I've ever felt standing next to him?"

"Witch? Oh, he must have brought Cassandra with him. Did you let them in?"

"No. They're waiting at the door."

"Heya Piper! You remember Cassandra, don't you?"

"A pleasure to meet you again, Piper."

"Likewise, Cassandra."

"Before I forget, I'm told you have my cell phone?"

"Yeah. Everything turn out ok, Marius?"

"As well as can be expected. Though I can safely say, death by Ebola is not at all a pleasant experience."

"Uhm, Ebola? As in the virus from Africa?"

"That would be the one. Those folks that took me, well, they wanted to see what made me tick, so among other things, I got shot up with a massive dose of Ebola. It's something I'd rather not dwell on."

"I understand."

"So who was the gentleman that answered the door?"

"Oh. That's Leo. My husband."

"Husband? I don't recall you mentioning a husband before?"

"We were separated when you and I met."

"Ah. And now?"

"We trying to work things out."

"Ah. Ok. Well, never let it be said that I would be the cause of a divorce. So, friends?"

"Friendship is good."

Phoebe, Paige, and Leo came in at that moment, and after a round of introductions, the three Halliwell sisters began to pick Cassandra's brain for information while Leo and Marius began a conversation, albeit a rather uncomfortable one at first. At least, until Marius made mention of the Ancients.

"The Ancients? What do you know of the Ancients? Are we talking about the founders of Atlantis?"

"One and the same, Leo. They were here before, shall we say, the current generation of mankind."

"But they died out?"

"No. They didn't die. They evolved."

"Evolved?"

"They transcended the need for corporeal bodies. But they wanted children. Immortals are the result of that need for off-spring."

"So you are the off-spring of an Ancient?"

"That's essentially correct. In the fullness of time, I am told, my kind will evolve as well, and take our place among the Ancients. They created us to be Guardians for Earth and her mortal children. We haven't always been the best of Guardians, but we are trying to correct our errors and lead Earth's children along a better path now."

"No offense, but you don't feel any different from a mortal."

Marius looked at him strangely for only a second, before unleashing the full power of his Quickening. He had kept it toned down, per Cassandra's request, that the full power of their Quickening's would interfere with the sisters' abilities to sense danger. Leo fell to his knees shouting in pain, and grasping his head as the full strength of Marius' Quickening rolled over him. Just as quickly as the sensation began, it stopped as Marius tampered down his signature.

"I stand corrected. You are an old one."

"Not so old as that. A mere twenty-six hundred."

Their conversations continued well into the night and when both Marius and Cassandra left, it was with a new understanding of the three sisters and what they meant to the world.

----------------------------------------

**_July 3rd_**

_**Las Vegas**_

Attendees for the conference slated to kick-off the next day had begun arriving early on the 3rd at the SGC and via ship in orbit. Many of the guests would be housed at the Luxor, the MGM Grand, and at Mandalay Bay, all within a short walk of one another. All of the hotels lay within a twelve block area that had been cordoned off with military police at various check points and force fields securing the entire area. Over head, fighters from numerous airbases in the area would be patrolling round the clock. They were supplemented with F-302 fighters stationed at Peterson AFB and aboard the two existing Battlecruisers, the _Prometheus_ and the _Daedalus_. Three more Battlecruisers were expected out of the Luna shipyards the next day, along with the first of five Immortal class fleet support ships.

There were already a few dozen ships in orbit. Ships from empires that wished to show off their advanced technology to these primitive Tau'ri. Indeed their first contact with the Tau'ri had come via Stargate sometime in the previous seven years, as had subsequent contacts come via the same means. A Tollan vessel pulled into a parking orbit between an Asgard cruiser and a Goa'uld Ha'tak. High Chancellor Travell, and four other members of the Tollan Curia were aboard that ship and were looking out the main view port when they came into the system. Travell and the Curia had rather fixed assumptions of Tau'ri technology. They were surprised to find out that the Tau'ri had constructed two space going vessels. Vessels made for war primarily and exploration in a secondary role. But they were more surprised to see the two Battlestars in Tau'ri space, one in orbit around the fourth planet, the other around the third. Their scanners showed another vessel, immensely huge, in the nearby asteroid field, and four more that their scans indicated were under construction.

The Goa'uld had already ringed down to the conference site. Marius had asked Nefertiri to act as a liaison to the Goa'uld. She was dressed in much the same way she had dressed when she had been hand maiden to Cleopatra. The fact that she was dressed correctly had startled the Goa'uld representatives. The fact that she spoke in what had been court Egyptian or Goa'uld, was a welcome one.

"Greetings. On behalf of the Tau'ri and of the Immortal Council, I bid you welcome to Earth. I am Nefertiri. I have been assigned as your liaison while on Earth. Should there be anything you need, you have but to ask."

"Tal ma'te. You are hok'tar? Even I, can sense the aura of your ancient power."

"Tal ma'te. Tal mal tiak. I am not hok'tar. I am of a race called Immortals. Do not look at me with envious eyes for my kind can not be hosts. The power of our aura would kill even the strongest of Goa'uld. We have been on Earth for tens of thousands of years. There are those of us who were there when Ra was here. We fight beside the Tau'ri in their quest."

"I see. I am the Jade Emperor, the Exalted Lord Yu Huang Shang-Ti. I am the oldest of the System Lords and leader of the System Lords Council."

"I am Osiris."

"I am Ba'al."

"I am Bastet."

"I am Kali."

"And these are you lo'taurs? Good. If you will come with me, we will get you situated in your rooms. I must apologize up front, however. The rooms that have been provided for you are amongst the most opulent that the Tau'ri can offer, however, they may not be up to your standards. Rest assured, all that can be done to ensure your safety and comfort has been done. None of the delegates will be allowed any weapons. The Tau'ri that you see with weapons are honor guards, to ensure the safety of all of the delegates. Tomorrow evening, when all have arrived, there will be an opening celebration that coincides with a celebration of independence in this host country."

"Independence? From what?"

"Some two hundred years ago, this country that plays host to us was founded as a colony of another country. In time, the colonies rebelled against their parent and formed their own nation-state. They celebrate this day on which they declared their independence and their desire for self-rule. Goddess Kali, this celebration has meanings that even the average Tau'ri has forgotten. But those of us who were there, who fought for Independence alongside the Tau'ri, have not forgotten the sacrifices made. There will be speeches and food for all."

"Very well."

----------------------------------------

At the SGC, delegates were arriving via the Stargate. Just as quickly as they arrived, they were swept through Medical for a baseline check and then taken to the surface where a number of shuttles were standing by for the short hop to the landing facility in Las Vegas. It had been decided that an Immortal would act as liaison to various representatives from the more advanced cultures. Just as Nefertiri was liaising with the Goa'uld, so was Marcus Constantine liaising with the Tollan, Grace Chandler with the Nox, Kassim with the Furlings, and Mako with the Asgard.

The delegation from the Ancients was already on Earth, in the form of Methos as son of Tok'Ra, Tok'Ra himself, and Colonel Jack O'Neill, whom after his contact with Tok'Ra, had been transformed into an Ancient.

Shortly after Thor and five others from the Asgard High Council arrived, Thor was taken aside and introduced to Fox Mulder. Before Mulder could even ask a single question, Thor spoke.

"Fox Mulder. You are a legend amongst the Asgard. We have been observing your race for thousands of your years. In that time, there have always been certain individuals whom we could contact if we were to find ourselves stranded on your world. You were identified as one such individual."

"I was? Why?"

"Our rule is one of non-interference with the younger races. Yet many tens of thousands of years ago, our race was of two minds. After a series of very bloody civil wars, the more antagonistic of our kind were banished. Exiled from Asgard space. Though we wish no contact with our long exiled brethren, we do keep tabs, as it were, on them. We have known of their attempts to influence the course of human history. When information regarding your fight against them was intercepted, we identified you as a safe point of contact."

"My sister?"

"As I have stated, there were others of our kind who were more antagonistic. Their stated goal to create stronger races through strife, then to hybridize those stronger races in their own image. If their attempts at hybridization failed, then they would release the pathogen you know as the black cancer in order to create more soldiers for their cause. Once we made contact with the Tau'ri, particularly with O'Neill, we realized that we must attempt to stop them from completing their experiments on your world. To this end, we have prevented their ships from landing here. Now that Earth is a party to the Protected Planets Treaty, they can no longer interfere with your natural growth."

"But there were men and women here working with them?"

"Yes. That is true in many cases. However, they will no longer trouble you. With this scanning device, you will be able to locate any of their technology on your world. Once you have eliminated their influence, the group of men and women whom they were in league with, will fall apart."

"What about my sister?"

"I regret that we were unable to stop them earlier from taking many humans for experimentation. If she still lives, though this is doubtful, she may be on one of their colony worlds. They number approximately one dozen. We would be happy to act on your behalf to attempt to locate her and return her to you."

"If she lives?"

"She may have died during their experiments."

"I have seen clones of her."

"If clones were created, then it is possible that the original body is alive. However, she may not be cognizant of her surroundings."

"I see. Well, this scanner will certainly help. But I want to go with you to find her."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible. We will inform you of the particulars of our search."

----------------------------------------

_**Las Vegas**_

**_July 4th_**

_**Convention Center**_

_**2000 hours**_

In all his life, Marius had never seen so many powerful people in one room. Representatives from the Ancient Alliance sat at one table together. The Goa'uld at another table. Lesser delegations at various tables interspersed with Tau'ri liaisons. There were rumors he'd heard from a well placed source inside the UN of a pending meeting there to declare the formation of a Sol Confederation, with the Tau'ri, the Immortals, and the Colonials as the first members. The rumors went on with one small fact; the UN wanted control of the technology of both the Colonials and the Immortals. Another stupid power play by his brethren.

But just today, he'd received word from Mitch in the asteroid field. The first two of five planned _Immortal_-class ships had been completed. When he had first moved to Luna, he gotten together with his staff and had designed this new class of ship. The _Immortal_ class. Three miles long, two miles wide, and a full mile in height. Using the technology given to their trust by Tok'Ra, the ships had been designed to create their own wormhole in space. Using the CombatGates that Tok'Ra had built so many thousands of years ago as beacons, the ship would create a wormhole using one of those beacons as an end point and would emerge in space near that gate. There was no way that a ship as large as an _Immortal_-class could transit through one of the CombatGates.

It was designed to provide support to the fleet that the Tau'ri and the Colonials were presently building. Machine shops and entertainment venues, manufacturing plants and refineries, vast hydroponic gardens and a full hospital with room for two thousand patients at a time. There were to be aid stations scattered along the periphery of the ship, located near airlocks and transport ring stations, to provide stabilization aid to the severely wounded before moving them to the infirmary. They had taken a lesson from the Colonials in the design of the hangar bays. Along the mid point of the ship, and projecting fore and aft were a series of linked hangars and launch catapults. With a crew of two thousand to keep the ship in space, a flight crew of a thousand to defend the ship, and ground assault troops numbering five thousand, the Immortal class was more than just a support ship.

Thousands of pulse laser turrets and rail gun turrets would protect the ship. At the fore end and under where the bridge lay were two dozen heavy cannons, both pulsar and rail gun. If one were to look at the ship, one might believe it to be a Colonial Battlestar writ very large. But the resemblance was only 'skin deep'. Whereas the Colonials had two hangar bays in projections or 'outriggers' off the main body, the _Immortal_ class used those two 'outriggers' to land the ground assault troops. Each pod could detach from the ship and then be used to enter the atmosphere of a planet. Each pod would become the command center for twenty-five hundred assault troopers. Within the pods, were hundreds of ground assault vehicles, each of them equipped with the Ramos force shield.

Given a full load of raw materials in the numerous cargo bays of the ship, the manufacturing centers could build all of the fighters needed to replace the full compliments of five Battlestars and five Battlecruisers at one time. There were additional cargo areas that carried only the materials necessary to build the weapons said fighters would utilize.

All in all, what had started out its life as an underway replenishment ship had become something much more. The Colonials and the Tau'ri would build their Battlestars and their Battlecruisers, but they would become escorts for these Immortal ships. As Marius took to the podium in the Convention Center, the first of the _Immortal_ class carriers was moving into geo-synchronous orbit over Las Vegas.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Distinguished guests. On behalf of the Tau'ri, the Immortal Council, and the Colonial Council of Twelve, allow me to welcome you to Earth and the opening ceremonies of this Intergalactic Conference. A few of you may have noticed the colorful displays around the area. There is a reason for that. It was on this day, two hundred and twenty seven Earth years ago in our host country, that a number of brave men declared their independence and formed on this continent a new nation. A nation dedicated to the ideals of freedom and liberty for all. Ideals that are evident even today.

"Today, I am known as Marius Augustus, President of the Immortal Council. But two hundred and twenty-seven years ago, I was Marcus Brown, a soldier in the American Revolutionary Army. I can not lay claim to a large part in the war that gained this nation's independence, but I can claim to have been there. From the battle fields in the Carolinas, to the siege of Washington, to the victory at Bunker Hill, I marched and fought alongside the Tau'ri because I believed in the same ideals as they.

"In the intervening years, I have served my adopted country when she needed me most. I was there to celebrate the first manned mechanical flight at Kitty Hawk in 1903. I was listening to the radio when the announcement came that Charles Lindberg had completed his historic flight across the Atlantic and landed in Paris in May of 1927 after a thirty-three and a half hour flight. Some years later, I sat glued to a small black and white screen when the first American Tau'ri walked on their only satellite, Luna, in July of 1969."

While Marius was speaking a series of giant screens behind him and above him were showing scenes from his speech. Epic battle scenes of the Revolutionary War, the first flight at Kitty Hawk, Lindberg's landing at Orly Airport in Paris, and the Lunar landing and first steps by Neil Armstrong. Music played in the background ranging from symphonic masterpieces by Copland to modern composers like John Williams. On the overhead screens, guests were treated to a light show in the form of fireworks. The images and music and fireworks were being transmitted across the United States this evening.

"There were hard times and there were good times. Lean times, and plentiful times. My adopted country, the United States of America, has long stood for equality and justice. When the First World War broke out in Europe, I was there, fighting alongside hundreds of other pilots in the first large scale air war the planet had ever seen. I have been on this world for over twenty-six hundred years, but it has been the last hundred years or so that have been the most exciting. It is said that wars breed new science and technologies. Could the Wright brothers, builders of the first airplane, have envisioned how far we would take their creation? I like to think so.

"In one form or another, I have been in one army or another since my time as a General in Rome. But I would never have imagined, all those centuries ago, that I would one day be a fighter pilot. I flew fighters in both world wars, bi-planes in the First World War, and first Spitfires and later Mustangs in the Second World War. I was among the few pilots of piston powered aircraft in the Second War to shoot down a German jet fighter. Only a few years later I was again flying planes, this time jets, in the Korean Conflict. No matter what anyone tells you about that bloody little skirmish, it was a war, declared or otherwise. Thought I tried to fly for the US in Vietnam, my talents were called upon to build better systems for the military, so I sat that one out.

"It seems strange, now, to be telling all of this. Only a few months ago, the world in general was ignorant of the existence of Immortals and of our contributions to history. It is perhaps our best testament to history, that we as Immortals, have not made such brilliant contributions as have our mortal brethren. But we have seen history as it occurred. It is said often enough, that history is recorded by the victors. That may be true, but it is Immortals, with our long view of things, that know the real events that took place.

"Today, we celebrate another year of freedom. We mourn the passing of so many at the Twin Towers and at the Pentagon and in a rural field in Pennsylvania. Freedom is oft taken for granted, and it is often our intertwined fates that remind us of the price of our freedom, and that is eternal vigilance. Today we come together, in the spirit of cooperation and friendship, to forge a new beginning for our universe. I look out amongst you and see the four races that made up the Alliance of Ancients. An alliance that strove to create a peace in the universe so that the younger races could benefit from that worry free environment. But in your attempts to restrain the younger races, you've created a serious problem. You call us young, or primitive, and believe that we still have much to learn. The most old and wise of the Alliance were the Ancients themselves; the creators of the Stargate system that so many of us utilize today. Many of you believe that the Ancients have left this plane of existence and have moved on to a higher state of being. Many of you would be both correct and incorrect.

"The majority of the Ancients have left this corporeal plane. Yet a few remained behind. They created one more tool before they moved on. They created us; they created Immortals. Our numbers are few and for thousands of years we hunted one another in the quest for a prize. A fool's quest. Those of us alive today, may yet live another hundred thousand years and may eventually evolve to become Ancients ourselves. Yet we can wield their powers. We have their technology. We have a longer view of history. Yet we are still young.

"By comparison to our creators, we are but babes in arms. The eldest of our kind is more than ten thousand years of age. The youngest, a mere twenty-five years of age. I am only twenty-six hundred. Yet we can all trace our lineage to one Ancient; Tok'Ra. He who gave us life is he whom we honor with the taking up of arms against his ancient enemy; the Goa'uld Hegemony. And a few weeks ago, we were content to carry on that fight. Now we come to an interesting dilemma.

"Our 'father's' ancient enemy have come to us for assistance. The Goa'uld Anubis has formed an alliance with a race of cybernetic creatures that call themselves Cylons. Their stated goal? To wipe out all humanoid life in the universe. An ambitious plan, to say the least. And one at which they have every intention of success. This new enemy; the Cylons; they show no fear, they show no mercy. They are unlike any creature I have ever had the displeasure to fight, though admittedly, I have only fought other Tau'ri, other Immortals, and perhaps a few Goa'uld.

"There are races represented in this room tonight that do not wish to share their technologies. Fine. This is not a conference about sharing technology. It is a conference about sharing resources so that we may fight this new enemy. I won't ask the Tollan to share information about their ion cannons and I won't ask the Goa'uld to share information about their physiology, just as I wouldn't ask the Nox to share information about their cloaking technology. No, what we wish to discuss here tonight and over the course of the next two weeks, is how we go about sharing our military might to defeat the Cylons and Anubis.

"We must come up with a plan to integrate our military forces into one command structure. If, for instance, a Tau'ri is the commander of a fleet, then would the Goa'uld and Jaffa assigned to that fleet take orders from a Tau'ri? That is something we must work out, for right now the answer to that question is negative. But this is a discussion for the conference tomorrow.

"In the skies above us, the first ship of the Immortal fleet is taking up station keeping over the conference site. It will remain there, along with our other vessels and fighters to prevent any attack on this most auspicious conference. Please, enjoy your meals, and enjoy the evening's festivities. Good night."

The assembled dignitaries, some with staff, some not, looked skyward and saw on numerous screens a very large ship enter Earth orbit. At one of the tables, Jack O'Neill looked on with something akin to smug satisfaction as he saw the faces of the Tollan, the Goa'uld, and the Tok'ra break out in amazement at the sight. The ship was huge. It dwarfed the nearby Colonial Battlestar and made it the few Goa'uld Ha'taks in orbit look like bathtub toys in comparison. Things were definitely looking better.

"Sorry to disturb your dinners again, but I've just been reminded that I left something out of my speech. While the Representatives are meeting tomorrow and over the course of the next several days, there will be tours available for any interested parties. Informational packets on the tours available will be delivered to each of your rooms while we are here. Enjoy!"

----------------------------------------

**_July 5th_**

_**1000 hours**_

_**Convention Center**_

The maintenance staff of the convention center should be commended, thought Marius. In the span of eight hours, they had cleaned up the floor of the main hall of all the trash left from the dinner last evening. They had laid down carpet and arranged a series of tables and chairs in a semi-circular fashion and placed them on ever increasing tiers. The central podium sat in the center of the circle, down on the ground level. He had come in about an hour ago to check over the presentation equipment and his presentation materials. He was scheduled as the sixth speaker of the morning. Because the Asgard had called this meeting in the first place, their representative, Thor, would be the titular chairman of the conference.

Jack O'Neill and Adam Pierson filed into the convention center. They had been up late the night before, after the dinner festivities had ended, at the tables in their casino. Adam, as the oldest inhabitant of the planet, had been selected by the UN Security Council as the representative for Earth. Jack O'Neill, as a newly emerged Ancient, had been selected by Tok'Ra to speak on his behalf, though they both knew that Tok'Ra would probably be hovering out of sight at the meeting.

"The Chair recognizes Lord Ba'al, of the Goa'uld System Lords."

"Commander Thor. Distinguished guests. For thousands of years the Goa'uld have ruled over an empire that spans hundreds of thousands of worlds. Our Ruling Council has been in place at least that long. We police our own kind. A thousand years ago we exiled Anubis for committing acts of atrocities that pale even against our own. Yes. Our own. We know full well that we are reviled for our actions and deeds. But even amongst our kind, Anubis was far worse than any of us. And so we exiled him. And for a thousand years, we knew nothing of him. Now he has returned. He has been building his forces for a number of centuries. The Council hoped that we could handle this matter internally. We did not expect him to ally himself with these Cylons. Osiris and I brought to Lord Yu, news of this alliance, and of the new atrocities committed in the name of the Cylon Empire. It is true that we possess slaves. That we use them as warriors, as laborers, and as scholars. But these Cylons, they have no regard for humanoid life. There only goal is to exterminate all life that is not their own.

"And so, the Ruling Council formed a fleet, the likes of which had not been seen in a thousand years. And we took that fleet to do battle with Anubis and his new allies. We regret to say that almost the entire fleet was destroyed. The Council has come to the conclusion that this is a battle we can not fight on our own. Though it angers us greatly, we must ask for help to defeat these Cylons. Alone, we can not do this. Perhaps together, we can."

"The Chair recognizes Travell, representative of the Tollan."

"On behalf of the people of Tollana, I bid you all greetings. To be quite honest, when we were contacted by the Asgard with news of this conference, we did not know what to expect. The Tau'ri are our allies. We enjoy diplomatic and trade relations with them. It is our policy, and has been for centuries, not to share our technology with less advanced races, out of fear of what those races might accomplish with that technology. But, after seeing the video evidence of the fight between the System Lord fleet and Anubis and the Cylons, we have come to the conclusion that this fight, is our fight. As you have stated, the Cylons view all humanoid life as less than they are. You have told us that they wish to annihilate all human life in the galaxy. As we are of the same root species, we pledge our resources to this fight. We will not share our technology, but we will share the few fleet vessels we have available for this battle."

"The Chair recognizes Methos, representative of Earth."

"Greetings to all. A few weeks ago, shortly after Commander Thor requested this meeting, I was summoned to the United Nations building in New York. On Earth, the United Nations is a quasi governing body where all nations can air their disputes in open forum. It doesn't always work, but we are trying to make it work. As I was saying, I was called before them. They were debating who would be appointed as representative for Earth. Ambassador Richards, of the United States, suggested that I, as the eldest inhabitant of Earth should speak for the Tau'ri. And so here I am.

"We of Earth, recognize the threat posed by Anubis and by the Cylon Empire. We of Earth, pledge our full support to this battle, to defeat the Cylons and to defeat Anubis. We have new agreements now in place with numerous governments of our world to share the burden of the Stargate program, and to share in the technological resources obtained thereof. I thank you for your time.

"The Chair recognizes Marius, Representative of the Immortal Council."

"Greetings to all. I wish to say first that the Immortal Council pledges its full support to this endeavor. Secondly, I have reviewed in detail the video provided by the Asgard regarding the recent battle between Anubis and the Cylons and the Goa'uld forces. There are lessons to be learned. Let's look at them briefly. If you will turn to the video screens on your desks, you will see the data stream taken by the Asgard probe. The first thing I noticed was that the Al'kesh bombers fired first. I wondered about that. So I consulted with a representative of the Colonial Council, and was told, to my amazement, that the Cylon fighters are equipped with short range weaponry only. But this fact escaped those on the command Ha'taks. The Al'kesh fired first and their opening shots went unanswered by the Cylons. As they closed the distance to firing range, the Cylons finally opened fire, decimating the lines of Udajeet fighters. The Al'kesh, rather than staying in the fight as they should have, blew on through the front lines and tried to engage the Cylon Basestars. That proved a costly mistake.

"The weaponry on the Basestar is formidable, designed more for ship to ship fighting than for defense against enemy fighters. Their high power pulsars made short work of the Al'kesh bombers. And the Cylon fighters made short work of the Udajeets. Then when the big ships started firing, you pulled back your more heavily armed vessels and let the lesser pyramid ships meet the enemy. It is my understanding that the System Lords were aboard those more heavily armed Ha'taks and Shral'kas, and so the reason for their remaining at the rear is clear to me at least. But by not utilizing the weapons at hand, they lost the battle. There are lessons to be learned here, lessons that we should take to heart if we are to defeat our mutual enemy. That is all I have to say at this time."

----------------------------------------

**_July 5th_**

_**Peterson AFB**_

_**Court Martial**_

It was the first trial, that of a Marine Corps Lieutenant and Major charged with attempted kidnapping of an Immortal. The charges had been read, as per procedure. Yet instead of a regular court martial, the two officers in question had elected for a summary judgment from the JAG. Because of that special circumstance, it would be difficult at best to sentence the two men to any sort of long jail term, primarily due to the national security issues. But the JAG, Admiral AJ Chegwidden had been briefed in on a new 'jail' for the two officers in question.

"Gentlemen, you stand charged with attempted kidnapping of an Immortal citizen. You have both opted for a summary court martial and as such my hands are tied as to the possible punishment. Had this been a standard Article 32 session, odds are you would have been found guilty and sentenced to a period of confinement of no less that ten years. At which time you would have been dishonorably discharged and stripped of all rank and benefits.

Major Bradley, for the charge of attempted kidnapping of a citizen of Luna, you are hereby reduced one grade in rank to Captain. Second Lieutenant Foster, for the charge of attempted kidnapping of a citizen of Luna, you are hereby reduced one grade in rank to Sergeant. On the charge of conspiracy to kidnap an Immortal, you are both reduced two grades in rank, to Second Lieutenant and to Private, respectively. You are both ordered to report to the military prison barracks at Peterson AFB where you will serve a term of no less than one month and no more than three months, without pay. Thereafter, you will both be reassigned to the deep space radar outpost currently under construction in the orbit of Pluto. This hearing is closed."

----------------------------------------

**_July 6th_**

_**Conference**_

Tok'Ra had been watching the proceedings though his presence amongst the delegates was not known. He felt a presence near him and sought it out. It was John. And he was not alone.

"John."

"Tok'Ra. I bring a matter to you that is of the utmost importance. A few days ago, Earth time, we were contacted by four separate entities, none of which exist on this plane of continuity. They have requests to make."

"I see. What sort of requests?"

"You are Tok'Ra, of the Ancients?"

"I am. And you are?"

"I am Q. My race is the Q. We exist in a parallel dimension and where we exist we are the most advanced form of life known."

"A bold statement, Q. What do you seek of me?"

"Tens of thousands of years ago, your race created a device that allowed you to traverse the barriers between dimensions. I met one of your kind at that time. I saw much potential at that time. Now that I have again met your kind, I see that the Q could learn much from you. But that is another matter. In my own universe there are numerous humanoid species. One in particular is most troublesome. They call themselves the Borg. They have some misguided idea that they can achieve perfection and they do this by assimilating other species into their gestalt. They most recently came across the outpost world your kind left in my universe. The Q were not aware of the existence of this outpost world."

"There was only one outpost world in your universe. When we experimented with that technology, we set up a number of outpost worlds, to monitor the growth of other civilizations. We had in mind contact with those races when the time was right, but we evolved and such matters were left unfinished."

"Yes well, these Borg came across your outpost world and assimilated the technology therein. Thankfully, they did not obtain the secret of cross dimensional travel, but they did learn about worm hole theory. Now they are using that theory to assimilate thousands of races at a time. This would not greatly concern the Q as they are no match for us. But we are few. Truth be told, I have taken a liking to some of the lesser races and frankly I do not wish to see them assimilated."

"These lesser races you speak of, who are they?"

"They are the counterparts to this Earth in this dimension. In many ways, the humans of the Federation are more advanced than your humans here. They try peaceful methods of contact first and only resort to warfare when there is no other option. They have strange ideas regarding contact and sharing of technology with less advanced races than they. But it has worked for them. These Borg, unfortunately, will assimilate them because they can not defeat them. The Federation technology is no match for the Borg. Truth be told, the Goa'uld technology is no match for Federation technology either. But, Federation technology is more than a match for Cylon technology."

"I see the beginnings of a deal here, Q. But let me first listen to these other three."

"I am Kosh."

"Kosh. Ok. What do you want?"

"Never ask that question!"

"If I do not ask that question, then how am I to know what you seek from me?"

"That is a fair statement. Our race was young when first we met. The Ancient. A First One. We sought guidance from you. You left; passed beyond the rim. We sought your home world and found much technology. Our brothers, those whom others call Shadows, stole much of this technology. Their belief is chaos. Survival of the fittest. Our belief is Order. Obedience to our rule. A thousand years ago, we fought them, and drove them back to their home world. Now they have returned. Without the First One, our protected races will not survive."

"I see. Well, you're next. Who are you?"

"I am called, the Keeper. Our race keeps the flow of time moving along. I have surmised that all of us here, watch over a group of humans whose home world is Earth. The Earth in my dimension is at war. There is one soldier in this war that is critical to the flow of time. We have interfered in the growth of this soldier, prevented the soldier from dying, but each time we do so, the time line changes. As a Keeper of Time, I know that this soldier will be the one to save their Earth. However we can no longer interfere. The instability in the time matrix of which my Earth is located has become to great. We can risk one, perhaps two more incursions before the time line will cease and revert to the original, in which case several billion human lives will be lost and our race will cease to exist. For though we are considerably more advanced than they, and for they do not know of our existence, they are our antecedents. Without them, we will never be."

"My problem is similar to that of the Keeper. Greetings. I am Amanda. I am also a Q. Unlike the Keeper, however, I have seven human lives that depend on me. I have tried to help them. They are presently stuck, by my design, in a temporal loop, unaware. The outcome has been the same, time after time. The death of one, the loss of two more, and the psychological damage of the remaining four. All are necessary to the survival of their Earth."

"I see. And what is it you four require from me?"

"They require from you, dear Tok'Ra, some of your children."

"And what do I get in return?"

"When the time comes, they will return the favor."

"Very well. We are in agreement. I will choose the leader of the expedition. Then the leader will choose who will go. A month. Then the journeys betwixt dimensions shall commence."

"Then it is agreed."

The others left Tok'Ra. He was deep in thought. As much as he loved his children, his Immortal creations, he would have to choose one to sacrifice. With all the potential problems involved in cross dimensional travel, the choice was easily reached, though not easily accepted. It would have to be Marius. But should he tell him or not? That was the most difficult of questions. And should he decide to tell Marius, when would be the best time to do so? He was, after all, in the midst of a conference, and there were dozens of problems already on his plate. Tok'Ra resolved to think on this matter further, and perhaps to consult with his son on this matter.

Marius was unaware of this new development. The conference had adjourned for a lunch break and would resume opening statements at 1400 hours that afternoon. Just now, he was in his room at the Luxor, speaking with Mitch Guerra, his head of research and development.

"What news do you have for me Mitch?"

"All good news I'm afraid."

"That's usually the best kind of news, Mitch."

"Most definitely, Mr. President."

"Stop that. Every time someone calls me that, I'm looking over my shoulder for President Ryan."

"Uhm, ok. On to the good stuff. As you are well aware, the first _Immortal_ has cleared space dock. She will be ready for space trials inside of a month. She's your design, so we'll leave the naming to you. Your designs called for the ability to launch eighteen fighters at any given moment. We've increased that to ninety fighters. Each hangar bay can launch eighteen fighters at the same time. There are five primary hangar bays and an even dozen support bays for shuttles and the larger gunships we've created. One of my teams took the basic design of an Al'kesh and improved it radically. It now looks like a rather flattened version of the original Al'kesh. Actually, it looks something like a cross between a flat Al'kesh, and an elongated X-302. It has four internal rotary launchers for every missile in the current US inventory. Four additional external hardpoints for a variety of weapons including rotary launchers for anti-ship missiles. These external points can also be reconfigured for Search and Rescue missions in that they will mate up to a disabled ship. In the SAR configuration, all but one of the internal launch bays are removed, and a maximum of two fighters can be retrieved. There is a single gun turret under the nose of the craft, and a pair of turrets at the rear of the craft, one mounted above the engines, one below. This gunship carries a crew of six; two pilots, three gunners, and a weapons specialist or bombardier.

"We added eight docking stations to the exterior of the vessel. The _Prometheus_ class Battlecruisers can dock at those stations to perform underway replenishment, transfer wounded, or just hitch a ride. In the event of engine failure, the docked Battlecruisers can provide engine power to the mother vessel. Another design team looked at the Colonial Viper class fighter and made changes to it to make it compatible to our technology.

"The redesigned Viper; we're calling it a Mk III Cobra Interceptor; is faster and not dependant on tylium fuel. It has been fitted with two naquadah generators; one to provide power for the engines and other systems, and one to provide power solely for the weapons. There is a single internal rotary launch cell that will carry the SIM-182 Venom class Space Intercept Missile. It can carry fourteen of the missiles in the launcher. We've left the guns in place where they would be on a Viper, but with the additional power provided by the naquadah generator the guns are considerably more powerful. As you may recall, the Viper was a tri-wing fighter, with the wings set up in a delta formation. On the two lower wings, we've added a fairly standard dual-missile rail for Air Intercept Missiles. Though the AIMs will work in space, the SIMs will work at drastically reduced range in atmospheric conditions. The reason is that we did away with directional fins on the SIMs and replaced them with directional thrusters."

"How well do the directional thrusters work?"

"During a test firing, the Venom missile did a full one-eighty and destroyed the assigned target when it overshot."

"Outstanding!"

"We thought so to. The _Immortal_ Strike Carriers will…"

"Strike carriers? I thought these were designed as support ships?"

"After we finished building the first one, seeing all the armament and space craft it would carry, we changed the designation."

"So you were saying?"

"Yes. The strike carrier will be home to two hundred of the Cobra interceptors, four hundred Mustang attack interceptors, one hundred and fifty bombers, and one hundred shuttles. Additionally, the two 'outrigger' pods? We made some small changes there to your designs. We subtracted some of the personal berthing areas to make room for aircraft. One of the outrigger pods will be home to a Marine Expeditionary Unit, the other to an Armored Cavalry Regiment. The MEU will have at its disposal eight AV-8B Harriers and eight AH-64D Longbow Apaches for close air support. The Cavalry Regiment will have sixteen AH-64D Longbow Apaches to provide support. Each outrigger pod will also carry a dozen Stingray light tanks, eight M109A6 Paladins for medium range fire support, eight M270A1 MLRS for long range fire support, and enough M113A3s to carry all ground fighting personnel. Each of the vehicles, whether wheeled, tracked, or airborne, is equipped with a small version of your force shield.

"When you figure in troop numbers, pilot numbers and general crew, the strike carrier will be home to approximately seven thousand two hundred personnel. Add in another thousand to cover all of the vital ship areas, engineering, bridge, security, medical, etcetera. So, eighty-two hundred, give or take a hundred."

""Good God. That's not a strike carrier, that's a fleet of its own!"

"True. We've halted construction on the remaining three Immortals, and are gearing up to produce Battlecruisers. With our production facility now at full strength in terms of CMUs, and with a full stockpile of naquadah and trinium, we can have eight of the Battlecruisers, complete with attached strike wings ready to go in a few weeks."

"Earth has five Battlecruisers at its disposal for system protection, yes?"

"Correct Marco."

"Ok. Full production on the _Prometheus_ class Battlecruisers so the first strike carrier will have its full compliment of escorts. Is the first SC ready in all other regards?"

"No. All planes are aboard. No personnel or equipment as of yet."

"Ok. I'll work the personnel angle on this side. Once this conference is over with, I'd like to take the first SC out on its maiden voyage. Hopefully by then I will have picked out a name for her."

"Ok. Luna out."

The briefing had not taken as much time as Marius had thought so he left his quarters and went out in search of one particular individual. Though he was intending only to speak with President Ryan, he found to his surprise, said President conversing over coffee with Sergei Golovko, Russian Representative to the Earth Delegation.

"Mr. President. I had hoped to speak to you alone, but this opportunity is much too good to pass up."

"Please, Marius. Join us. Have you met Sergei Golovko?"

"I have not had the pleasure as yet. My greetings to you, Mr. Chairman."

"You are Marius? The Immortal President? Ah but it is good to finally meet you! I had hoped that Ivan Emmetovich here would arrange a meeting between us. But you are here now so I am grateful for this wonderful opportunity!"

"Please gentlemen, be seated. Coffee would be an excellent option just now. I don't know about you two, but it seems to me that the opening rounds of any multi-national conference are always quite boring. You know, during the second great war, I was a fighter pilot. At the onset of the war, or at least from the perspective of the US, I was flying fighters over England and into Germany. On one such mission, I was tasked to fly a lot further east, to carry a classified document to your Iosef Stalin. Unfortunately, my plane was shot down somewhere near Stalingrad. That was, unfortunately, the only view I've had of Russia in the past century. It was many weeks before I could get back to my unit in England, where after a short convalescence, I was transferred to the Pacific front. The documents were destroyed when the plane crashed and since high command never saw fit to tell me of their contents, my meeting with Stalin did not take place.

"Compared to my prior trip to your country, back around the turn of the 11th century, the countryside had not dramatically changed. True, it was distinctly more industrialized, but it was still, Russia."

"You were shot down near Stalingrad? I wonder if any records of your mission yet exist?"

"I could not attest to that Mr. Chairman."

"Please, call me Sergei."

"Of course. Sergei. I spent a pair of weeks assisting one of your Army units there in Stalingrad, before I was able to make my way down the coast, and then to England. The truth of it is that the time I spent with the Soviet defenders in Stalingrad is among my more treasured memories. A group of individuals, fighting against very long odds. It is the stuff of legends, yes?"

"Indeed. But you did not seek out Ivan Emmetovich just to tell this tale, no?"

"No. That was a bit of a flashback. When one is as long lived as Immortals generally are, a person or accent or place will stir up memories of past events. But enough of the memories. Jack, Sergei, I come to you a man with a problem. As you may have seen at the opening ceremony, the first of five new _Immortal_ class vessels is ready. Initially I had envisioned it as a long range support ship. Providing logistical and medical support for this war that is to come. But as things happen, what I envisioned and what my staff created are different. The result is not a underway replenishment craft, but something more along the lines of a carrier.

"Think for a moment, if you will, Jack. When ever some major event occurs in the world, generally the first question out of the President's mouth is 'Where are our carriers?' Why is that so? Simply because a carrier is one hell of a force projection tactic. Would you two agree with this?"

"Yes."

"Da."

"Good. With that in mind think on the new Immortal class carrier. A space wing comprised of space superiority interceptors, attack craft, long range bombers, and ship to surface shuttles. If you noticed, the carrier has two 'outrigger' pods, for lack of a better term. These pods are designed to detach from the carrier and descend to a planetary landing and will act as command centers for any ground offensives. Ideally, we would place a Marine Expeditionary Unit and an Armored Cavalry Regiment aboard the carrier, one to each pod, with all the personnel and equipment needed and desired. Of course, there are always space limitations inherent in any vessel, so the requirements for equipment will have to be attenuated to achieve the 'most bang for the buck' as it were. Both ground forces should also provide their own air support as support from the space borne fighters may not always be available. Now, what I would like to see is a composite force for the first carrier. What I mean, is a force of pilots and ground troops from both the United States and from Russia, with perhaps some special forces types from Britain or Australia. Any personnel assigned to the carrier would of course be retained on lists maintained by their parent countries, however, at this time, I would venture that we will pick up their payroll issues."

"I was under the impression, Marius, that the Immortal Council did not have such a budget?"

"Not normally, no. However, Jack, we have recently made forays into the asteroid belt and have commenced mining and refining of certain precious metals. Gold. Silver. Platinum. And Titanium. And with the expected income from the licensing of certain Ancient's technology, we expect our coffers will soon be full to overflowing. Granted that at the moment, we are still finding it necessary to import a certain amount of foodstuffs from Earth, however, our agricultural facilities are proceeding apace and we expect to become at least partially self-sufficient by year's end. As an added incentive, I would add that with one full year's service aboard the carrier, I will extend immigration rights to any who wish to do so. Within limits of course."

"In as much as your offer is a generous one, comrade, I'm afraid that our military forces have pulled back from their Cold-War era standings even more so than those of the United States."

"Of this I am aware, Sergei, however if you could arrange licensing for us, of certain military designs, then the Immortal Council could see to their production."

"And which designs did you have in mind?"

"For starters, the Yakolev 141, the Kamov 50, and SS-N-19 missile. I was thinking on something also like an AEW helicopter, but the only one I am aware of is the Westland SeaKing used by the British. Unless either of you know of something similar in your own inventories?"

"Why a helicopter AEW platform and not a jet?"

"Simple Mr. Chairman. The ground deployment pods can not support such a jet. Which is why I am asking for platforms that are either vertical take-off or short roll take-off. And, frankly, the support for such aircraft as either the Mainstay AWACS or an E2-C or even an E3 would be too much particularly with the limited amount of space available within the ground deployment pods. When you factor in all the ground personnel, their support vehicles and aircraft, the space becomes an important issue."

"Alright, I can see the need for aircraft like the Yak-141 or the Ka-50, but the SS-N-19?"

"The SS-N-19 or P-700 Granat as I believe you call it, will be loaded onto the strike carrier, and perhaps onto the Battlecruisers that support the carrier, though I am not sure that we can load any amount of the Shipwreck missiles onto the Battlecruisers. In short, I want a long range strike missile capability for the strike carriers. Something that can be used against other capital ships and perhaps against planetary targets."

"Would the missile not burn up during a planetary atmospheric entry?"

"It would as it is not designed for such a flight. However, my development staff assures me that the missiles could be fitted with a limited force shield that would protect it during the atmospheric insertion phase of a planetary bombardment."

"Excellent! I would very much like a tour of this strike carrier when possible, Marius."

"Something that should be easy to arrange, for both of you. Now, with that out of the way I see that time grows short. I must bid you good day as unfortunately I must return to the conference. I have been told that the representative from Kelowna is scheduled to speak this afternoon."

"Very well. It was a pleasure to meet you Marius."

"And I you, Sergei. Jack, I will see you later I presume?"

"This evening, at dinner. I believe we are seated at the same table?"

"This evening then. Good day gentlemen."

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_**Conference Room**_

**_Afternoon of July 6th_**

"The Chair recognizes the Representative from Kelowna, Jonas Quinn."

"On behalf of the people of Kelowna, I thank the Asgard for inviting us to this conference. My greetings to one and all. I am Jonas Quinn, duly appointed Representative of the planet of Kelowna. I have listened for a few days now to the tales told by other delegates and their own planets' encounters with Anubis. This Goa'uld came to Kelowna not long ago and demanded from us a radioactive substance that we call naquadria. How such a substance came to be on our world, we do not know. We do know, however, that long ago, our world was colonized by a Goa'uld as we have examined numerous sites of antiquity. The Goa'uld left our world after my people rebelled and cast them from our world. I myself, have fought them on numerous occasions whilst in the company of SG-1 of the Tau'ri's Stargate Command facility. Which is why I am most skeptical of this proposed alliance between the Goa'uld Council and this august body. That is the purpose, after all, of this conference. But if I may suggest, there are numerous worlds and small empires represented here that are at approximately the same level of technology as Kelowna and Earth. Perhaps a mutual defense alliance between us 'lesser' worlds would also be appropriate at this time? It is something to consider.

"There are numerous worlds on the Protected Planets Treaty whose time for removal from the protections of the treaty have come. I am told that of those planets removed from the treaty because of advances in their science and culture, very few are still free of Goa'uld involvement. Is it not enough that a planet enjoys protection from the Goa'uld until such time as it has evolved sufficiently only to be forcibly enslaved once the treaty has expired for that world? The time has come for those of us who can to join together in a spirit of cooperation and mutual defense. Mr. Chairman, I ask that this measure be considered for approval by those delegates here. Thank you for your time."

"Mr. Chairman! If I may?"

"The Chair recognizes Marius, Representative of the Immortal Council."

"With respect to my learned colleague from Kelowna, I believe his idea of an alliance is an excellent one. I believe that there is a precedence for such an alliance in history, yes?"

"Yes. Once there was an alliance of four races. The Asgard. The Nox. The Furlings. And the Ancients. We were united together to guide the younger races and keep them from harm. With the passing of the Ancients to the next level of their evolution, the alliance dissolved."

"Not all of the Ancients have moved on. The one known as Tok'Ra is still here. And though we as Immortals are but babes in arms by comparison to Tok'Ra, it is we who will evolve with time to become Ancients ourselves."

"Mr. Chairman! I object to this statement! There is no proof offered by the representative of the Immortals that they will become Ancients!"

"I'm sorry, sir. I did not catch your name during the introductions a few days ago."

"You. Who claim to be cast in the image of the Ancients. I am Takreesh of the Furlings. I do not believe, for one moment, that one such as Tok'Ra would have created such an inferior human as you."

"Please. How am I inferior?"

"I see no distinction between you and the Tau'ri, or with the Colonials, and I object to them being offered three votes at this conference. All of you live in the same system. You who are Immortal were born on the home world of the Tau'ri. Yet you now have an independent voice in this proceeding. The Council of Furling demands proof of your statements! We will not allow this conference to proceed unless some measure of proof is offered!"

The next voice that was heard did not come from one place in the room, but rather from all places at once.

"Takreesh of the Furlings. You do not know me, though perhaps one of your antecedents did. I am Tok'Ra; he who is against Ra. You demand proof? What right have you to demand proof of the existence of children of the Ancients? I knew long ago that the alliance would falter when my race moved on beyond this plane of existence. But I had hoped that of all the races in the Alliance, that the Furlings would keep to their agreement and protect Earth. Did I not ask your race to do this? And did you? No. You left my children and their mortal cousins to die. I should have known better, all those millennia ago, than to trust a Furling."

"How dare you speak to me in this fashion! Show yourself, coward!"

At the center of the room, in full view of one and all, a golden cloud of sparkling particles faded into existence.

"I am here Furling. If you do not wish to partake of this new alliance, then leave. If you leave, then know this; as long as the Children of the Ancients live, there can be no relations between them and the Furlings. Are you so willing to cast aside millennia of trust between your race and mine?"

"You…you are an Ancient? You are Tok'Ra?"

"I am. The energies that make up my body also flow within the bodies of the Immortals. They, more than any other race in the known universes, are our children. This is the proof I offer to you, Furling."

"Mr. Chairman, the Furlings withdraw their objections."

For many of those in the crowded room of delegates, the sight of an Ancient made them sit up and take renewed notice of these Immortals. For Marius and Methos, it was the phrase 'known universes' that made them take notice. Methos made it a point to speak to his father at the earliest opportunity.

Shortly after the Furlings withdrew their objections, another delegate made a motion to adjourn for the day. There were many things to consider, primarily the proposed alliance of lesser worlds as put forth by the Kelownian delegate. It was something that was on the minds of many at this conference.

Marius made his way out of the conference hall and to his room. There was much on his mind and so he did not notice the other in his room.

"So you're an Immortal, eh? Not much to look at."

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?"

"It's amazing what you can do with a few well placed bribes. Oh, don't bother trying the phone. I've pulled it from the wall. Now, why don't we sit for a moment. I have a request to make of you."

"You answered one of my questions. Who the hell are you remains to be determined."

"Forgive me. I'm Alex Krycek. I believe you are holding some associates of mine."

"Associates? Oh. The so called Consortium?"

"Yes. That's them."

"You want them released? Is that it?"

"Hell no! I want them tried for their crimes! I want them to suffer. The way they made me suffer."

"How so?"

"They sent me to Russia to investigate an incidence of the Black Oil. I lost my arm and they infected me with that disease! I want them to suffer! I wan them to know pain and anguish intimately!"

"They will. You understand, they can't be tried in any court on Earth. If word of their misdeeds were to leak out, there would be world-wide panic. So we've changed the venue."

"I see. Will they be executed?"

"No. The new venue does not allow for capital punishment. They will be sentenced to exile from Earth. We've prepared a nice little prison asteroid for them."

"I see. Very well then. I shall leave you now. But remember this. Things are not always as they seem. You think you have eliminated all of the Consortium members, then think again. I have already been contacted by one, one that you believe is dead. He placed quite an attractive price on your head. Were I you, I'd get myself a bodyguard."

"You're not me. I can take care of myself."

Marius felt the sting of a dart and fell at once to the floor. When he awoke a few moments later, the room was empty save for himself. In addition to everything else, he now had a new worry.

----------------------------------------

_**Tour Group 6**_

_**New York City**_

There were two dozen different tour groups that had emerged from the Conference Hall at Las Vegas two days before. While their official delegates were busy in meetings, the lesser members of the delegations were out on various tours. Ryos, Architect of the Colonial Colony world of Mars had joined this particular group. Just now, the group was in a shuttle over flying the city these Earthers called New York.

Below him he could see a mass of humanity. The tour guide gave the population of the cities below him at over nineteen million inhabitants. He paid little attention to the droning on of the guide except for when it suited him. He had thought these primitives to be backwards but now he saw that their architecture was intriguing. It was local dusk and many in the shuttle breathed in sharply when several beams of light filled the night sky. For a brief moment, Ryos thought they were under attack. The tour guide set his mind at ease. What they were witnessing was a memorial made of light. On the spot from which the beams emanated, there had been two towers, each one hundred and ten stories high. The Twin Towers, as they were called, had been a center for international trade. Two Earth years ago, madmen had crashed one plane into each tower bringing them down with a heavy loss of life. The tour guide referred to these madmen as terrorists and hijackers both.

Ryos had heard the term terrorist before. Many thought of the Cylons as such. Those that bring terror into the night. As he gazed upon the beams of light, he noticed the view screen in front of him as it displayed an image of what the towers had been like. Again he marveled at the sheer immensity of the structures. Colonial architecture had nothing like this! The tallest structure in all the Colonies, had been a mere twenty floors. Perhaps these Earthers were not so primitive after all. Now he felt the shuttle as it banked to the west to chase the setting sun. Moments later they had left the grand city far behind. Below them stretched a mountain chain and green valleys. Here he noticed something else. Whereas the great city behind them had been full of millions of inhabitants, these great open spaces below him were dotted few and far in between with the lights of structures and cities. The Tau'ri seemed to conglomerate inside large cities, though there were many who preferred the wide open spaces left to them in their countries.

Now their tour guide pointed out vast fields below them and the numerous machines that were harvesting crops. Ryos had grown up in space and so this was new to him. He always thought of harvesting crops in the agro ships, but here he saw what it was like to harvest crops from the ground. Mars would not provide fertile ground for decades to come, but perhaps then they could make the planet green like Earth. Now the shuttle turned slightly south as they made for the vast open plains. Below him he saw vast herds of creatures. The tour guide called them cattle. The shuttle flew low enough so that the passengers could see riders on horseback moving amongst the vast herds. Their guide explained that the riders below were moving the herds either to market or to a new pasture where they could feed. When one passenger asked, the tour guided told them that cows were a major food source for the Tau'ri.

Now the shuttle banked again and headed west. Shortly they passed the coastline and then they saw below them a vast ocean, occasionally spotting a huge vessel traversing the open sea. Ryos thought that if this was how the Tau'ri moved large amounts of cargo, then the Colonials could teach them something. The guide explained that the level of advancement and technology for Earth allowed them to travel above and below the sea, though there were limits to how far down they could reach. The deepest spot in the ocean was at something called the Mariana's Trench where the seabed lay some seven miles below the surface. Only once had a manned craft traversed that distance and even then the craft was only able to spend some twenty minutes at the bottom due to the tremendous pressures exerted on the craft. The guide went further by stating that research was underway in many countries exploring the possibilities of undersea colonies. Ryos thought this ridiculously absurd as no Colonial had ever considered this possibility.

Now he looked down as the shuttle flew over a country called China. Near the coast of the vast country, were large population centers, but a little further inland Ryos was appalled at the very primitive conditions he saw. Here there were homes made of native materials, and farmers worked their fields by hand or by using beasts of burden. Ryos could not fathom the disparity between what he had seen in the country called the United States and what he saw below him in China. Could there truly be so vast a difference in life between the two nations? This he resolved to have answered the moment he returned to the conference site.

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_**Dinning Room**_

_**Las Vegas Hilton**_

It was a quiet meal, though there were various sessions of music and speeches planned throughout the evening. Marius sat at a table for nine, his companions for the evening being Jack Ryan in his capacity as President of the United States. Sergei Golovko, representing the Russian President. The Prince of Wales, as the unofficial representative of the British government. Commander Apollo, military leader of the Colonial fleet. Colonel Athena, commander of the _Daedalus._ Colonel Starbuck, strike commander of the _Galactica_. Colonel Jack O'Neill, in his role as official representative of the Ancients and Captain Adam Pierson as the delegate for Earth. Even before the meal started in earnest, Marius waved to one of the waiters attending to their table and made a short whispered request and a few moments later, the waiter returned bring several bottles of a blush wine.

"Marius, I know several vineyards, but I must confess to never having heard of Augustine Estates?"

"It's a small winery Adam, but of all the wines I've ever tried, I must admit to liking this one completely. Apollo, it's not ambrosia, but it's as close to it as you'll find on Earth."

Around the table the guests were taking short sips and tasting the wine, and they found it quite to their satisfaction, so much so that Sergei asked where he could obtain more of it.

"I'll have to send you a case Sergei. You'll find that I am quite partial to this particular winery as I happen to own it."

"Indeed? It is quite good. There is a certain flavor I'm trying to place. It is not overly pronounced, yet it is still there, like a fleeting after image."

"That's just the effect I was hoping for. I mix fresh mint into each batch."

"Mint? I never would have thought of that!"

"If you think my wine is good Adam, then wait until you try my beer."

"You brew beer also? You are a man of many talents, Marius."

"From you Methos, I consider that high praise indeed!"

"Captain Pierson, do I detect a proper British accent?"

"Quite correct, your Highness. At some point in my life, I have lived in nearly every part of the world, yet I call England my home. I've had an estate there since Rome was the dominant force in England. There is much to be said for walking about in the countryside on a proper British morning when the air is crisp with just a hint of rain."

"A most apt description. Though I much prefer to fly in those conditions than to be on the ground. I have a World War Two era fighter that I have restored. It's the same one that an uncle of mine flew during the war. A Spitfire."

"Ah! Now that was a right proper fighter plane! Your Highness, were you aware that I flew for the RAF before the US got involved in the war? No? It's true. When word came to me of the Empire's struggle with Germany, I volunteered to fly in the Eagle squadron. I flew dozens of missions before the US entered the war and I rotated stateside as an instructor pilot. When our first squadrons went to England, I was there, flying and fighting in 1942. I was shot down near Stalingrad and had to make my way back to England over the course of a few weeks, no, more like two months. After a short stay in a hospital, I was transferred to the Pacific front. I missed the battle of Midway, but flew in pretty much every major battle thereafter. I think of all my time flying, and I believe that the best invention for the airplane has been the ejector seat, because, believe me, having to pull back a canopy and climb out of a burning aircraft is not a pleasant experience. Once over Stalingrad and a few times over the Pacific were more than enough for me. Whomever said 'may you live in interesting times' never met an Immortal."

"Well said Marius. Your Highness, I too was in British uniform for all of the Second World War, as a code breaker at Station X. I was part of the team at Bletchley Park that helped to crack the Enigma codes."

"Without which, I daresay, the war might have gone on a lot longer. It seems that you have had many great adventures as Immortals. It would be a grand thing, to live as long as you do, to bear witness to so much history."

"Living as long as we do, your Highness, has its disadvantages. Outliving so many others is but one of them."

"Well said Adam. Well said."

The conversations continued on through the meal. When things were looking as if they were about to wrap up for the evening, Marius brought up the topic he had discussed earlier with President Ryan and with Chairman Golovko.

"Well, Jack, you and Sergei have had the day to think on it. What can you offer in terms of men and materiel for the first strike carrier?"

"I have discussed your request with my government and with my President. The people of Russia pledge five squadrons of pilots and two Motor Rifle companies. I have spoken at length with the designers at the Kamov and Yakolev design bureaus and they will license the two designs you seek, along with the schematics for the Granat missile system."

"Excellent!"

"I spoke briefly with Secretary Bretano and he has agreed to assign the 12th ACR to the strike carrier, provided we get them back at some point in the future."

"Of course! They will be returned and I believe somewhat better trained to take on extra-terrestrial enemies."

"Additionally, after having spoken with Sergei and hearing about the loan of two motor rifle companies, Secretary Bretano suggested a partial Marine Expeditionary Unit to round out your ground personnel needs. He is also issuing orders to all the pilots currently in training to report to Peterson for advanced training as space borne fighter pilots. That should bring your squadrons to nearly full strength."

"Very true. Yet we would still need additional pilots. Commander Apollo, would it be possible to borrow some of your pilots? To round out the squadrons and perhaps a few veteran pilots to serve as tactical instructors?"

"I think we can do this. Yes. It will be done."

"Your Highness, would England care to contribute to the cause?"

"While I do not speak for my government, I do believe that something can be arranged. You only need pilots?"

"We _also_ need pilots. But to round out the ground personnel, I had in mind some special operations forces, perhaps a unit from each of your countries? Additionally, and if at all possible, the design schematics for the Westland SeaKing AEW helicopter?"

"I don't see that as any great problem. I shall communicate that to my government forthwith."

With one major problem off his mind now, Marius took the time to introduce the others to his other favorite passion. Beer. Again with a slight hint of mint. Marius had always thought that beer was too bitter for his taste. With the slight sweetness of mint added to the brewing process, the bitterness disappeared.

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_At another table_

"Sire Uri. I have much to report."

"As well you should Architect Ryos. You have been on tours of the planet, yes?"

"I have Sire. And a most interesting planet indeed. The blend of architectures from Europe to the Americas to the Far East are most unique. Back home on Caprica, we had structures that went no more than twenty floors above the ground. Did you know that here in the Americas, they have structures that stretch far into the sky? I saw buildings in a city called New York that stretched more than one hundred floors into the sky! These Earthers are not as primitive as I had thought. There is as much as they can teach us as we can teach them. In many areas, they are far behind us, yet in a number of areas, they are as far advanced as perhaps a thousand or more yahrens."

"Really? I do not see how that could be possible."

"We had small oceans on Caprica, yes? Did we ever consider traveling under them? Or living in them?"

"How preposterous! Of course not!"

"These Earthers…they not only have designed craft that can travel to the bottom of their oceans, they are designing structures that can withstand the pressures at those depths to open colonies on the sea floor. From there, they can mine the ocean floor for precious metals and vital minerals necessary to their economy. While it is true that they have only had practical nuclear power for less than a century, it is also true that they went from riding on beasts of burden to landing men on their only satellite in less than a century! It took the colonies more than a thousand yahrens to accomplish the same advance! If I may be so bold Sires and Siresses, to suggest an exchange program, between their designers, scientists, and engineers and ours? It would greatly benefit both our peoples."

"An item to be taken under advisement, architect Ryos. You have another tour scheduled tomorrow yes?"

"Yes. They will be showing us centers of manufacturing and power production."

"Very well. We expect a full report when the conference is over."

"Of course."

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**_July 7th_**

_**Conference Room**_

"This session is called to order. The chair recognizes the Representative of Earth."

"Mr. Chairman. Distinguished delegates. I have thought long and hard on the matter brought forth by the delegate of Kelowna and have come to the conclusion that such a treaty is entirely workable. Earth only has to look at its own example of this treaty to realize that is an idea with merit, though one that has its own unique set of problems. On Earth, we have a body called the United Nations. Each government on Earth sends a delegate to this body to discuss matters of international treaty and law and to send in, as a group, troops to oversee peaceful missions. This body is also responsible for missions of aid and mercy whenever the need arises. Perhaps at this conference we can lay the ground work for such an organization. I should point out that here on Earth, each nation has chosen to abide by the decisions of the United Nations, though it does not always do just that. Also, while the United Nations does maintain a force of military personnel, that force is pulled from the participating nations. Each member nation retains the right of self governance and self protection. It is not by any means a perfect system, but there are many advantages to working as a group of nations rather than attempting to solve a problem alone. Mr. Chairman, I wish to, at this time, second the motion put forth by the delegate of Kelowna. Thank you for your time."

"The motion for the formation of an alliance of planets has been put forth and seconded. The rules of the conference allow for five local planetary days of debate before the motion may be called for a vote by the conference. This body will adjourn for six hours so as to allow all member delegates to contact their respective governments. When we reconvene we will begin hearing discussion on the subject. This is meeting is adjourned for now."

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_**Tour Group 6**_

_**Shuttle over Washington, D.C.**_

"Good morning to all. Before we proceed on our scheduled tour, a suggestion was made to alter slightly the sights we will be viewing. In order to more fully demonstrate our history, we will be spending half the day at two museums in our nation's capitol city. The first is the Air and Space museum. The second is American History museum at the Behring Center. I have been told that both buildings will be closed to all except our tour groups and that there will be numerous historical experts available to answer any of your questions. If not, then we will be landing in what is called the National Mall. It is a large green space surrounded by and containing numerous monuments of historical significance. One end of the mall is capped by a monument to Abraham Lincoln, former president of the United States, while the opposite end is capped by the Capitol building."

Architect Ryos listened remotely as they flew over the green space in question. He could see the monuments to which the guide was referring. Their shuttle landed and moments later all were seated within what the Earthers called a 'tour bus' that would take them to the two museums in question. Ryos really had no use for seeing things from a historical perspective. What was past was past and would not come again. But if he had to go through this in order to see the centers for manufacturing and power production then he would do so. By the end of the day, he would find his thoughts on historical events greatly changed.

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_**Marius' Hotel Room**_

Marius sat at his terminal in his room. He was in the process of placing a call to Luna.

"Marius, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"Just touching base with you Constantine. The conference proceeds apace and I am calling to request a favor."

"Of course! Name it."

"I was visited a day or two ago by a gentleman who was formerly in the employ of the Consortium. He claimed we have nothing to fear from him, however, he also claimed that there are additional Consortium members still out there. He claimed to have been contacted by one of them who offered a substantial reward for my head."

"I see. But Marius, you should be able to handle any mortal threat, no?"

"I would love to say yes to that, however, before I could say anything to him, he hit me with a fast acting poison dart and I dropped like a rock."

"Yes. I see your point. I shall assemble a guard detail at once. I think perhaps three is a usable number, no?"

"Yes. Three would allow at least my guards to rotate their shifts as needs arise. Patch me through to Hamza would you? I have a request to make of him as well."

"Of course. Anything else Marius?"

"One more thing. The first of our strike carriers is ready. Come up with a name for the commander of the ground forces that will be housed aboard. I would prefer it were an Immortal, but we will make do with what we have."

"I'll see to it at once. Good day to you Marius and please hold while I get Hamza."

Marius had been thinking about the whole bodyguard issue for a few days, ever since his little talk with Krycek, but in truth, he didn't want the bodyguards. He wanted to be able to deal with this issue himself but he also realized that he could not. As Krycek so succinctly demonstrated, all it took was one dart and he would be down. Then his assailant could take his head. That Krycek had not done so had been a lesson learned. His reasoning in contacting Hamza was on a more personal nature. A few hundred years ago, he had studied under Hamza and learned from him the art of the weapons-smith. Hamza was a master of the art of sword making.

"Hamza. It is good to see your ugly face again, old friend."

"Were you not once a student of mine, Marius, I would have your head for that comment. But I see that the title of President has not gone completely to your head. Not yet in any case."

"I'm trying very hard not to think of myself as your President, Hamza, but there are too many people who would think of me as such. I think of myself as a soldier, not necessarily a leader. I accepted the job because the council wished it. It is something I would gladly trade to another, given the chance."

"Then that is what makes you the right man for the job. Now then, how may I be of assistance, old friend?"

"I need you to put your skills to work for me. I'm uploading a file to you. I've had in mind for some time the creation of a series of ceremonial blades for an honor guard. At the moment, the two strike teams assigned to the SGC are using standard issue military sabers. I'd like to change that to something any Immortal could actually utilize in battle if need be. I'd also like a staff weapon designed by you for use by me and the three as yet unnamed bodyguards that will be assigned to me. Something that looks like a walking staff, feels like a walking staff, yet hides within a decent blade. It must also hide any number of devices that could get a trapped Immortal out of danger. We are moving into uncertain times where any one of us, particularly those who serve the SGC, can be captured by the enemy. Any advantage in that type of situation could mean prolonged life."

"I have designed many such staff weapons in the past for Kings and Warlords. With some updating on the blade weapons, such a request is easily fulfilled. The ceremonial swords, however, are a different matter. You know as well as I do that a sword for an Immortal is as much a symbol of who they are as it is functional. Some prefer a light and easily wielded weapon while others prefer a heavy sword meant as much for cutting as for blunt force. But I shall see what I can come up with. Shall I assume that the staff weapons will take priority?"

"A good assumption. The quicker I have a reliable weapon at my ready disposal, the safer I will feel. And since it will be one of your creations, I will feel very safe indeed."

"I will take that as the compliment it was meant to be. I thank you Marius. You have given much of yourself to our cause. It shall be my honor to design a blade for you."

Marius had just closed the connection when he felt the prickly sensation that boded another Immortal near him. Just as he turned around from his terminal, Tok'Ra appeared.

"Rest easy, young one. It is only I, Tok'Ra. A situation has arisen and I am in need of your assistance on this matter."

"Of course. Father-Creator, how may I be of assistance?"

"You could start by not calling me that. True, I may have yielded some of my Quickening energies to create you and others like you, however, I am not the Creator. I shall tell you this. There is an older race, long gone from our plane of existence; the Progenitors. In the beginning, it was they who walked amongst the stars like giants, millions of years before the Ancients first took to the stars. They found the universe to be a lonely place and so they created us; they created the Ancients. Their one ideal, to nurture the younger races so that they may one day nurture other younger races. They passed along this noble goal to us, and we have done as much as possible to nurture you along. Call me father, perhaps, but not father-creator."

"As you say, Tok'Ra. Now then, father, how may I be of assistance?"

"A million years ago, our race was much like the humans are today. We were explorers, but we found the vast distances between stars a difficult void to cross. Three research teams were formed to look at different aspects of the same problem. The team I was on developed the Stargate network, which the Tau'ri and so many others utilize. Another team developed the Hyperdrive. Again, a device used by untold numbers of races. The third team; they developed the dimensional mirror. And so we began exploring, sending out Hyperdrive equipped ships to lay down the Stargate network. And we used the dimensional portal to open the pathways between dimensions. And we explored. In many other universes, we left outposts or, in many cases, monitoring stations, as we believed these particular universes to be the most promising in terms of development.

"Time passed and we evolved. These other universes were forgotten. Truthfully I had not thought of those heady days of exploration until just a few days ago, when I was visited by four others like me. Though the Ancients are still by far much older than these other Progenitor descendants, they possess many of the same skills that we do. They breached the passageway between dimensions to call to my attention the outposts we left behind many hundreds of thousands of years ago. It seems that these outposts have been discovered and the technology therein put to use, though not all of the discoveries were made by benevolent races.

"You must go to those four places and reclaim our lost technologies. There are many things you must do to accomplish that goal, but do them you must. In the wrong hands, those technologies can allow others to break the barriers between dimensions. The results of which would be disastrous. You must go Marius. You may tell three others of this task that I have lain before you."

"I will do this. But I have some conditions that must be met first."

"And what are these conditions?"

"In a month's time, I was to take the first strike carrier out on her maiden voyage. If I am on that carrier when the crossing between dimensions happens, then so be it. But that will leave Earth, Mars, and Luna virtually undefended. Is it within your power to complete one or two other strike carriers? Complete in all respects, including all equipment, and support ships?"

"I can not make something appear from nothing, but I will show you how to accomplish this task using an advanced form of your creation nanomachines. The advanced version will allow you to build a strike carrier, complete with all support craft, in a month's time. I can install those new machines today, if you accept this mission. By the time your first ship leaves this dimension, your next two ships will be ready. I believe your second ship is nearly complete?"

"It is. The third has not even had a keel laid yet however."

"That will not be a problem. What is your second request?"

"Tell me of the places I must walk, of the challenges that lie ahead of me. Is there anything that I need to be concerned with?"

"In one of those universes, you will encounter a race that has the ability to phase shift slightly out of normal sight. Your Quickening will allow you to see this race easily. That is what you wanted, yes?"

"Yes. You know of Fox Mulder? Yes? Good. Does his sister yet live?"

"Yes. She is with those the Asgard cast out long ago. And yes, he will find her."

"In my time as an Immortal I have seen many whose gift of insight and deduction led them to great fame. Yet I have rarely seen a pair like Mulder and Scully. Theirs is a gift unique amongst the Tau'ri and that gift could serve generations to come. If I gave them a choice, could they be transformed in the same manner as you did with Colonel O'Neill?"

"It is possible."

"You wanted an eternal companion for your son. One who would serve to ground him and keep him out of trouble. That is entirely understandable."

"You mentioned a dimensional portal earlier. The one I have seen in the reports of the SGC is the size of a mirror. How will I be able to transport a ship the size of a strike carrier through such a device?"

"I will equip your strike carrier with a dimension portal projector. It will open a portal large enough to allow your strike carrier to travel through. Please be aware of one thing, however. In these other dimensions where you must walk, there may be some hyperspace beacons of Ancient design for you to home in on while using the wormhole projectors on your carrier. I will feed to your navigational computers the necessary information regarding each dimension once you enter it. Please be aware, Marius, that the dimensional projector has limited usage. Once its power core is gone, it will be completely useless as the material that makes up the core comes from a dimension completely alien to this one. Seven trips is all you will get. That should be more than enough to accomplish your missions."

"A final request, Tok'Ra. Should I need you or your counsel in one of these other dimensions, will you be available?"

"You have but to call. Now, as an added bonus, Marius, I will show you how to manipulate your Quickening to summon the forces of nature. You may find it useful in all the dark places you will journey to."

"That sounds rather ominous."

And so saying, Tok'Ra passed through Marius quickly and then disappeared. And in the wake of his passage, Marius knew instinctively how to call down the lightning and the wind, the rain and the heat. The knowledge in of itself was terrifying and he hoped and prayed he would never have to use such forces.

Though it felt like he had been speaking with Tok'Ra for the better part of an hour, only a few minutes had passed and in that moment he realized that he too could slow down the passage of time to a near crawl. But it was not something he wished to test anytime soon. Marius returned to his terminal.

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_**Elsewhere**_

"My son."

"Dad? Is something wrong?"

"Your friend Marius is a wise man, though he has much yet to learn. I ask that you look after him in the months to come, for I fear I have requested of him a task that may be insurmountable and I am afraid that I am more than likely sending him and many others to their deaths."

"You said you are sending Marius to his death? But he is like me, an Immortal? How can he die?"

"I am sending him on a journey. If he survives, he will be a more able leader for this universe. If he dies, and he very well may die, he will be remembered, by me if by no one else. He has accepted a challenge that will lead him to all the dark corners of the multi-verse. He will stand in the light to shine it down onto evil. And no evil shall escape him. He is being sent on a journey to correct past mistakes of the Ancients. If he returns alive, he will be forever changed by the journey."

"What do you ask of me, Dad?"

"Give him your counsel. He may not ask for it, or even seek it out, but he will need it. If you have need of me, you have but to call my name, and I shall appear to you."

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**_July 12th_**

_**Conference Room**_

"This session is called to order. There is a motion on the floor to create an alliance of races that will deal with the threat of Anubis and the Cylons. You may use the voting machines in front of you to register your acceptance or denial of this motion."

The delegates had thirty minutes in which to cast their vote on this first issue. Thirty minutes to vote after five long, tiring and long-winded days of debate. Debate that had been oft-times very heated. But now it all came down to this. For Marius and Methos, the vote was easy. Acceptance. For the Goa'uld, the decision was harder, but it was still, acceptance. And so it went, until all the delegates had voted on this first issue.

"If you would take your seats, please. The motion to create an alliance to deal with the threat of Anubis and the Cylons has passed with a vote of nineteen hundred and fifty in favor, forty-nine against, and one abstention. The second matter before this body is that of a motion put forth by the delegate of Kelowna and seconded by the delegate of Earth in respect to the formation of an intergalactic alliance. The principle members of this newly formed alliance will be Kelowna, Colonial Mars, Immortal Luna, the Tau'ri, the Tollan, the Asgard, and the Ancients. These seven member governments may decide to allow others to join as the need arises. These seven members pledge that an attack on any one of them by any race constitutes an attack on all of them. It is an alliance of mutual defense and mutual assistance. As only seven governments are concerned with the creation of this alliance, only seven unanimous votes will be taken into consideration. However, other delegates may vote on this issue as well. Again, you may use the voting machines to register your acceptance or denial."

Thirty minutes later, that motion had passed as well, receiving the unanimous support of the principle members as well as more than fifteen hundred affirmative votes.

"The motion has passed. This concludes the business of this conference and we stand adjourned. I thank the delegates for their time in these matters and bid all of you safe journeys home. I ask that the principle members of the new alliance stay for a few moments to work out some groundwork."

Gradually the conference room emptied out leaving only Jonas of Kelowna, Apollo of Colonial Mars, Marius of Immortal Luna, Methos of the Tau'ri, Narim of the Tollan, Thor of the Asgard, and O'Neill of the Ancients. The meeting did not last long. It was more of a formality that would decide where, at least for now, a temporary headquarters facility would be located. With four of the members being from the same system of planets, the decision was reached fairly quickly. And so until a more permanent location could be found, the as yet unnamed alliance would be headquartered on Luna. The Asgard and the Tollan both pledged to build the facility, with the Kelownans and the Immortals pledging to secure the facility. Before they adjourned, Jack O'Neill put forth a name for their alliance. The Alliance of Independent Systems. Until a more formal declaration of laws could be worked out, the name would prove workable. Marius spoke for a few moments before they left.

"Gentlemen. No. Friends, I should say. What we have wrought here today, I believe, will stand for millennia. As you may or may not be aware, the shipyards under Lunar control are presently producing large warships for the upcoming battles with Anubis and the Cylons. At this time, I am prepared to pledge the following. The first ship will be given to Earth for usage by the Tau'ri. The second will go to the Colonials. The third vessel for Luna. While the Council of Immortals had only pledged to build a total of five such vessels, I will ask that an additional five be built. One for the Tollan, one for the Asgard, and one for the Kelownans. The remaining four warships will each have a fleet built around them and those four ships will eventually become the flagships of four fleets with which we will take the battle, indeed the war, to Anubis and to the Cylons. I foresee a time when we may be forced to use those fleets against our Goa'uld allies, but for now, we will battle test them against the Cylons and Anubis."

"You would give us a ship?"

"Yes, Narim. I would. It is what friends do for one another. The basic design of the vessel will remain unchanged for all, but you are to feel free to install anything else you deem fit. Once given to you, that ship will remain in the service of Tollana alone. The same for Kelowna and for the Asgard as well as the Tau'ri and the Colonials."

"But are you not also Tau'ri?"

"I thought I was once, Narim. I was born on Earth and have spent the last two millennia there. But I am a child of the Ancients. An Immortal. Or as the Goa'uld might say, a hok'tar. It is perhaps time that we Immortals thought of ourselves in the manner the Ancients meant for us to be, as guardians for this universe."

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**_July 21st_**

_**Tollan Home World**_

_**Chambers of the Curia**_

It had been a long hard road for Fox Mulder of the FBI. Ten years spent chasing the men who in only a few moments would be placed on trial for their crimes against the peoples of Earth. He would act as Seeker for this trial, if it could be called that. The rules of Tollan law were vastly different from Earth rules. Acting in the role of Archon for Earth was Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, in his capacity as Judge Advocate General for the United States military. The smoking bastard himself, C.G.B. Spender, was acting as the other Archon. Under the rules of Tollan law, a neutral third party had been found and asked to serve. There had been much debate on this particular subject, but in the end, Jonas of Kelowna had agreed to serve in this capacity.

"Greetings to all. I am High Councilor Travell of Tollana. The parties within this chamber have agreed to abide by the decision of this Triad. The parties have also agreed to all the rules of Triad. Lastly, though there had been a request for two separate Triads at the onset, they have been combined into one for the sake of expediency. We will hear first from Fox William Mulder, Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation of the United States of America, Earth. Please Mr. Mulder, if you would give us a short summary of the deeds purported by you to have been done by the Archon Spender and his associates."

"Thank you madam chair. There has existed on Earth, for a number of decades, a conspiracy to hide the truth from the peoples of Earth. The leader of this conspiracy, Spender, has in his time, authorized the abduction of my fellow citizens for the purposes of experimentation. Experiments, I might add, that no Earth government, or any government for that matter, would ever condone on one of its enemies, let alone on its own citizens. Experiments that included the harvesting of ova from female subjects so as to create genetically perfect clones. The harvesting of aforementioned ova for the creation of human-alien hybrids. They have endeavored to create a biological weapon, that if released on Earth, would have killed off the vast majority of the population.

"They have created advanced vehicles for atmospheric and space flight, with little or no regard for the safety of the pilots of said vehicles. I have documented proof that the pilots of those vehicles were exposed to radiation the likes of which would kill any person in this room within minutes. They have used those vehicles to perpetuate the lie that aliens, that is, persons of extra-terrestrial origin, had been abducting our citizenry. For more than a decade during my investigations of this organization, I have seen evidence and have logged it into the proper authorities only to have said evidence disappear. The man seated there, to the left of me, is responsible for more atrocities than even the worst psychotic mind my race has ever produced."

"Thank you Agent Mulder. We will now hear from Archon Spender."

"Good day to all. While Agent Mulder may certainly be creative in his characterization of the truth as he knows it, I certainly will not deny that I and my associates have done what he claims. Yes, we authorized the harvesting of ova, but it was only done after certain characteristics were noted in the women whose ova were taken. We made many advances in the mapping of the human genome. Some of those advances have been given to the right people so that our research could continue unmolested. Mr. Mulder, is quite correct that we performed this research, however, it was with the blessing and consent of many world governments. Our breakthroughs in human genetics and in cloning have led to many advances in medical science.

"Yes, we have created advanced aircraft, and we have used them to perpetuate the myth of alien abduction, but here we only adopted a ruse that others had already used. Strange how our planetary media have not picked up on the fact that numerous sightings of supposed aliens mostly resemble the Asgard? But yes, we did create advanced aircraft. In fact our designs are being studied by various world governments for possible adaptation in their own military arsenals. As to the charge that we created biological weapons, that madam chair, is an outright falsehood. The weapon in question is something that we internally called the Black Oil or the Black Cancer. It is an insidious virus of extra-terrestrial origin that upon infection, transforms the host into an alien entity. It is true that we did experiment with it, that we did purposefully infect test subjects with this virus, but that was merely to chart the method by which the organism transforms its host so that we could develop a cure and a vaccine.

"Mr. Mulder would have you believe that we in the so-called 'Consortium' are nothing more than power hungry psychotics who wished to enslave their fellow man. Nothing could be further from the truth. What we did, and I fully admit to most everything in the list of charges, we did for the betterment of mankind. So that we, not some alien virus, would be the winner in this most horrid and abhorrent of wars. We could ill afford to follow the letter of the laws of Earth. In point of fact, oft times we followed the spirit of those laws in our actions."

"We will now hear from the Earth Archon, Admiral A.J. Chegwidden."

"High Councilor Travell, fellow Archons. The matter before us this day is not an easy one. The list of charges against Archon Spender and his associates, if they had been heard in an Earth court, would undoubtedly have resulted in the most severest of punishments; death. But we are not on Earth. The most severe punishment available to us on Tollana is exile. So let us examine the arguments put forth by Archon Spender in detail.

"He fully admits to the ordering of numerous abductions of Earth's citizens. This is not in question. But whether those who were abducted were taken for peaceful purposes or nefarious ones, the fact is that they were taken against their will. These men and women of Earth had no say in the matter. They had no say as to whether their ova would be harvested and they certainly had no say in how those ova were utilized. The fact that they were conducting genetic research can be construed in various ways. However, on Earth, such genetic research is highly scrutinized. The fact that they were also conducting experiments in human cloning, experiments that have been banned in every nation on Earth, tells me that their purposes in conducting these abductions were more nefarious than peaceful.

"Furthermore, the fact that Archon Spender admits to the ordering of purposeful infections of test subjects using the alien virus is abhorrent in the extreme. Dr. Scully, an associate of Agent Mulder, has stated for the record that no cure exists for the alien virus. That once infected, if not immediately treated with a vaccine, the host creature, be it human or lower life form, is slowly transformed into an alien entity. The rest is speculation on her part, but is based on autopsies conducted by her person. That is, that the host is alive during the incubation process, that they can feel the entity growing within them and that they can do nothing to stop it. She speculates that the alien entity over rides a portion of the human brain and prevents the host from taking its own life.

"Additionally, there is the matter of their creation of advanced aircraft. Now, being a member of the military, I see the need for newer and more advanced aircraft, particularly in light of recent events in our galaxy. However, there are tried and true methods for testing such aircraft, and exposing the pilots to dangerous levels of radiation is not one of those methods. Our military pilots train for years and it takes time and financial resources to train those pilots. To think that these men could throw away talented human lives so easily goes against my very nature as a military officer.

"Fellow Archons, were this case to have been heard on Earth, I would not have been hard pressed to have found Spender and his associates guilty of all charges. I would not have lost any sleep over having them sentenced to death. But, we are not on Earth, and things are different here. The death penalty is out of the question. I vote for exile."

"You have each presented your arguments well and concisely. We will adjourn for three hours while the Neutral Archon considers your statements. We stand adjourned."

Marius had not been allowed in the Curia chambers whilst the arguments were made. For that matter, other than the seeker, and the three archons, and of course, Travell, no one else had been allowed in to the Curia chambers. But now that they had recessed for three hours, Marius found himself walking up to High Councilor Travell.

"Councilor Travell? If I may have a few moments of your time?"

"President Augustus. Of course. Let us go to my office, where we will not be disturbed."

"After you, madam."

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"Now then, President Augustus, to what do I owe this honor?"

"Please, Councilor, call me Marius."

"Very well. Marius. Is construction proceeding well on Luna?"

"Yes actually. Your building techniques are not radically different from ours, though they are much faster. The building is proceeding quite quickly, particularly now that the force fields are in place. With the shields in place, there is no need for the construction crews to wear bulky spacesuits. Hopefully, you will consent to placing one or two of your ion cannons for added defense of the headquarters facility?"

"That particular item is scheduled for debate before the Curia after this matter of Triad is completed. "

"Good. Now, if I may ask a question?"

"Of course, Marius, but you do realize that any question of a technological level will have to go before the full Curia?"

"I do, but the question I have is more a curious one that anything to do with technology. I listened quite closely to the statements made by the parties just a few moments ago. I must say, that Spender's arguments, though grossly misguided, have some merit."

"I had not expected you to say that. Was it not you that they abducted and experimented on?"

"Yes, I was one of their test subjects. I said their actions were misguided. I did not say I approved of them. I wonder, with all your advances in the medical sciences, and with the statements made by Narim to members of the Tau'ri previously that crime is almost unheard of on your world, I wonder how that can be?"

"All of our citizens are implanted with health monitors. Additionally, all undergo routine psychological examinations and if anything is found amiss, then appropriate actions are taken immediately."

"I see. Would such appropriate actions include possibly the complete erasure of the short and long term memory or perhaps the personality centers of the brain?"

"Such a procedure is possible with our technology. If a Tollan were found to be mentally unstable, for whatever reason, that person would undergo a mind and personality erasure and a new personality and skill set implanted."

"As an alternative to permanent exile, that may have some appeal to Spender and his associates. Would the Tollan be willing to do this for us? To wipe their personality and memory engrams and to rebuild them with something more appropriate? The prison asteroid that we have created for them can just as easily be turned into a listening post. Or a deep space radar post. Or even a research post."

"Even with all that they have done to you and to other Tau'ri, you would consider this form of punishment?"

"I would Councilor. I have been alive for over two millennia. In my time, I have been sentenced to exile once or twice. Such a punishment is worse than death. Knowing that you can never return to your home, upon fear of death. I wouldn't wish exile on anyone. Perhaps this re-programming of yours could be offered as a viable option?"

"Yes, I think that will be possible, provided of course, that they are willing."

"Of course."

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_**Curia Chamber**_

_**Tollana**_

The Triad was about to reconvene, and Marius had his answer from the Tollans. The mind wipe procedure would be available to any of the accused if they opted for the procedure.

"Triad is now in session. Does the Neutral Archon have any questions for either party?"

"I do. Consortium Archon, you admit to everything that has been done to the population on Earth?"

"We do. But again, what we did was for the safety of Earth."

"I see. So in your eyes you are not guilty of the crimes charged?"

"We are not guilty of anything but fighting to preserve the Earth way of life."

"I take that as a not guilty. Earth Archon, how do Earth laws interpret the actions of the Consortium?"

"They have admitted their culpability to their actions. Their actions have violated numerous Earth laws. We vote guilty."

"I see. Then the deciding vote must come from me. This is a most difficult situation. The Consortium has admitted culpability yet they admit no guilt. It is obvious that numerous Earth laws were broken in pursuit of their actions, yet they claim it was done for the safety and security of Earth. But for lofty goals such as those to come to fruition, it must be in accordance with all parties and the laws of all parties. That such work was done in secret tells me that they were in pursuit of these goals not for the betterment of their fellow man, but for the betterment of themselves. I must agree, therefore, with the Earth Archon and vote guilty."

"Before sentence is pronounced, President Augustus wishes to address the Triad. Mr. President?"

"Thank you Councilor. We find ourselves, now that the Consortium has been found guilty, faced with an impressive dilemma. The rules of Triad forbid a death penalty, that much was known prior to the commencement of these proceedings. They do allow for exile however. That exile would be permanent. To this end, we of the Immortal Council, upon request from the Earth contingent, have developed a prison asteroid for the Consortium members. They will live out their lives on that asteroid, with no hope of ever returning to Earth. Once they are inside their prison home, the outer airlocks will be welded shut, and a cover of reinforced trinium laid over the airlocks. They must work for everything within their new home. If something breaks, they must fix it. The asteroid is equipped with hydroponic facilities so that the prisoners will not starve. They must grow their own food, repair or make their own clothing, and they must extract their own atmospheric gases from the supplies provided. If each of them does their fare share of the work required, they will continue to live. If one of them fails to do the work, all will suffer.

"But there is an alternative, thanks to the Tollan and their advanced medical sciences. Having experienced exile myself, I know that it is not an easy thing to accept, that is, not being able to return to your home. In this light, I have asked the Tollan to make available to any or all of the Consortium members here a process called mind erasure. Your memories and personality will be completely erased and a new set of memories and a new personality encoded therein. But this is not a decision to be made with long thought. It must be a quick decision. So decide now. Councilor?"

"Your offer, Mr. President, considering what they did to you and others of the Tau'ri is most generous. It shows the true quality of leadership. Now then, Consortium Archon, you have been found guilty by Triad of the charges aforementioned. Decide. I will call each of you by name and you must give your decision."

"Archon Spender, what is your decision?"

"Exile."

"Ms. Diana Fowley, your decision?"

"Erasure."

"Ms. Marita Covarrubias?"

"Erasure."

"Mr. Brad Follmer?"

"Erasure."

"Mr. Alvin Kersh?"

"Erasure."

"Mr. Richard Matheson?"

"Erasure."

"Archon Spender, as all of your associates have chosen erasure, do you wish to reconsider your decision?"

"Yes. Erasure."

"Very well then. Guards? Take them to the medical center where they will be separated and sequestered until such time as our doctors and scientists have declared their former memories and personalities erased. This Triad is now complete and we are adjourned."

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Outside the Chambers of the Curia, Agents Mulder and Scully accosted Marius.

"Erasure? Are you out of your mind? After what those people did to us, to Earth, you give the option of erasure? Good God man, why?"

"Simple numbers really. Tell me, Mr. Mulder, how long does it take to train a soldier? Or a scientist or engineer?"

"Years. Why?"

"The enemy we are fighting, they are cybernetic. They can build billions upon billions upon billions of soldiers and have them ready to fight and fly as soon as they are built. When faced with odds like those, even the most stubborn of us, the most brave of us, cowers. But we can't afford to cower. To do so would mean the enslavement of the entire galaxy, possibly other galaxies as well. We can ill afford to do that. So I gave them the option. But there was a catch, and I'll fill you in on that now. After the procedures and they have been retrained, as scientists and engineers, they will be shipped to a certain 'research' asteroid. So, either way, we win and they are off Earth for good."

"You sneaky SOB. I'll admit I was confused, but your plan is most admirable."

"Thank you, Dr. Scully. Now, if the two of you would join me for a walk, I have something else I must inform you of."

And so they walked. And Marius told him of his deal with Tok'Ra. And they became two of the three people he would be allowed to tell. But how could they accept Immortality if it meant outliving their son, William?

"Tok'Ra? Are you around?"

"I am here, Marius. Have your two friends decided?"

"They have a question first. Dana?"

"Mulder and I have considered the offer. But we can not in good conscience accept the offer knowing that we will outlive our son."

"That should not concern you, Dana. Your son, I have already examined. He is destined to become Immortal. He is, as other Immortals would call it, a pre-Immortal."

"He has the potential to become an Immortal? In that case, both Mulder and I accept this gift."

So saying, Tok'Ra flew at both of them and passed through them. And when Tok'Ra was done, two new Ancients had been brought into the universe.

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**_August 6th_**

_**Personal Log**_

"It has been a hectic few weeks, and now the new headquarters of the Alliance of Independent Systems building is complete. All of the founding members have sent delegations to the building and they have written in record time, a charter for the organization. Drawn upon from the many documents of Earth, of the Tollan, and the Kelownans, the AIS charter calls for mutual defense in the event of attack, mutual aid in the event of catastrophe, and peace through force. If one member world is attacked, all are to consider themselves under attack and rush to the aid of the attacked world. If one world experiences a catastrophe of any kind, be it planet quake, or volcanic eruption, or even widespread crop failure, all will come to the aid of that world. Peace through force. An example of three words that when spoken, speak volumes. Peace is achievable. But it can only be maintained through force, but only where necessary. It allows for each member system to cede to the AIS control, up to ten percent of their military forces.

"The first strike carrier has received a name. All carriers to follow will be named in the same fashion, for the great fleet admirals in Earth history. The first strike carrier, which goes out on extended trials in less than a week, is the AIS Strike Carrier _Admiral Halsey_. The next one will be the _Kuznetsov_, followed by the _Nelson_, the _Spruanc_e, and the _Bismarck_.

"AIS _Halsey_ has undergone a minor re-fit to accommodate the SS-N-19 missiles, which have been since re-designated to their more common name of 'Shipwreck'. True to Tok'Ra's word, the creation engines at the Luna Shipyards have been updated and are now able to produce in record time. The research staff at Luna is looking at ways to make them even more productive.

"The former members of the Consortium have undergone their erasure procedures and have been retrained as viable scientists and engineers. They have been posted to the re-fitted research asteroid.

"Agent Dana Scully has accepted a position with the AIS to serve as Chief Medical Officer aboard the AIS _Halsey_. Her partner, Agent Fox Mulder, has also accepted a position on the AIS _Halsey_ and will now be head of the diplomatic first contact team. Technically, both positions should have been given to military officers, so the AIS Ruling Council granted both of them commissions at the equivalent rank. Two more Majors for the officer's pool aboard the _Halsey_. The JAG, Admiral A.J. Chegwidden, because of the sheer amount of military troops that would be based on the strike carriers, consented to assigning a shipboard JAG. After a rather swift set of promotions, Commander Bud Roberts, and his wife, Lieutenant Commander Harriet Roberts have come aboard the _Halsey_ and are settling in to their new offices.

"Piper, the woman who held my interest, made her choice and I will honor it. I can only hope that she and Leo will live a long a fruitful life together. I wish her well.

"Marcus Constantine is very good at his job. He named three bodyguards to my protective detail. Kyra, a five hundred year old Immortal. Reagan Cole, a thousand year old Immortal. And Alison, a fairly new Immortal at only two hundred. Three women. This could be fun.

"Marcus also nominated an overall ground commander for the AIS _Halsey_. A nomination that saw little debate in the Council chambers of the AIS. As of tomorrow, Kassim will assume his duties as ground commander. At his disposal are two deployment pods, each with a mixed nationality regiment, that is, a regiment composed of members from various Earth nations. Primarily from the five permanent members of the UN Security Council; the US, the UK, Russia, China, and France, though there are two SAS teams from Australia.

"The pilots are having fun while we are still in Earth orbit. The _Halsey_ has received its full compliment of squadrons and eight Battlecruisers. It makes for an interesting sight when the _Halsey_ comes into view and the eight Battlecruisers are docked, four 'above' and four 'below'. Each Battlecruiser has been slightly re-fit to accommodate twelve F-302 attack fighters, twelve Cobra interceptors, and two shuttles, along with a pair of forward looking launch tubes for the Harpoon anti-ship missiles. The AIS Council has also approved names for the Battlecruisers. They will be named for cities within the systems of the ruling council. _Prometheus_ will retain its name as the lead ship in the class, but the other ships joining the _Halsey_ for trials will be the _Dallas_, the _Kiev_, the _Tollana_, the _Kelowna_, the _Ryan_, the _Cydonia_, and the _Los Angeles_.

"The AIS _Halsey_ has also been completely stocked with provisions and equipment, just in case.

"I had a chance to speak with Apollo recently. I asked him how it was possible that his people spoke Earth standard English? His response? They were speaking Colonial standard. How odd that two languages could evolve so far apart and yet still be similar enough that we understand each other. Another of the universe's little mysteries, I guess. Unless Tok'Ra and his associates had something to do with this mystery. I tend to believe that they did, rather than to trust chance at the former theory.

"SG-1 will be accompanying us on the extended trials for the _Halsey_. Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c will be assuming temporary roles as wing commanders for the squadrons. Major Carter will join the bridge crew. Doctor Jackson will join Mulder's first contact team. And Methos, will join me on the bridge as my second in command. The AIS Ruling Council have given to me the honor of being the first Captain for the _Halsey_. It is a role that I will do my utmost to fulfill.

----------------------------------------

**_August 12th_**

_**Space Station Independence**_

It was a tremendous crowd that turned out to see the _Halsey_ off on her maiden voyage. A shakedown cruise to work out all the little bugs known to be hiding in her systems. Though it was planned as a short duration mission, her storage spaces were filled to capacity. All squadrons were aboard, the troop pods at full readiness. The main view screen aboard the _Halsey_ showed the view of _Independence Station_, the first space station to be completed as a joint venture between Earth, Colonial Mars, and Immortal Luna. A huge station, bristling with weapons ports and docking bays. It was home to over a thousand personnel. Five full manufacturing centers, research labs, and even a large agricultural dome at the top that would be, in time, home to a decent sized forest of food producing plants and trees.

"_Independence Station_ to AIS _Halsey_. You are cleared to maneuver."

"Roger _Independence_. Ok people. Let's make this one count. Helm, move us away from the station, thrusters only."

"Aye sir."

Slowly, the _Halsey_ moved out from one of the two large docking ports that had been attached to _Independence Station_. With mooring cables released, the _Halsey_ increased her speed until she was moving away from the station at 500 kph.

"_Independence Station_ to AIS _Halsey_. We show you clear of the docking station. Good luck and God speed. _Independence_ out."

"Helm, plot a course for the Orion cluster."

"Course plotted, sir."

"Attention all hands, this is the Captain. Secure for hyperspace transit. When we emerge from transit, all ready squadrons will launch into a CAP. That is all."

Aboard _Independence Station_, the crowd looked on as the _Halsey_ styled for a moment, before the large fore-mounted wormhole projectors activated. It was a new and untested technology, at least to them. It was a technology that the Ancients had first developed and deployed millennia ago. The projectors opened the wormhole and the _Halsey_ moved through. It would not be an instantaneous journey, as the sheer mass involved and the amount of power necessary to open a stable wormhole were both immense. But within ten minutes, the _Halsey_ would emerge at a predetermined spot in the Orion cluster, where the Battlecruisers _Houston_ and _Moscow_ were waiting. The ships were there to scout out the cluster and to lay down an early warning net of sensors.

Unfortunately, the _Halsey_ did not emerge from the wormhole into the Orion cluster. Or rather, they did, but not in this universe.

And while they were in transit to Orion, something else, quite unexpected happened on Earth.

----------------------------------------

_**White House**_

_**Oval Office**_

The man walked in as if the mere act of walking into the Oval Office were the most natural thing in the world. The President was sitting at his desk speaking with his Chief of Staff, Arnold van Damm, seated in front of the desk.

"Senator Kinsey? You're supposed to be dead!"

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, Mr. Ryan."

----------------------------------------


	5. Persistence, Pt 1

_Persistence_

_Part 3 of the Potentials Series_

_Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible._

----------------------------------------

_**Part I**_

----------------------------------------

Aboard _Independence_ _Station_, the crowd looked on as the _Halsey_ styled for a moment, before the large fore-mounted wormhole projectors activated. It was a new and untested technology, at least to them. It was a technology that the Ancients had first developed and deployed millennia ago. The projectors opened the wormhole and the _Halsey_ moved through. It would not be an instantaneous journey, as the sheer mass involved and the amount of power necessary to open a stable wormhole were both immense. But within ten minutes, the _Halsey_ would emerge at a predetermined spot in the Orion cluster, where the battlecruisers _Houston_ and _Moscow_ were waiting. The cruisers were there to scout out the cluster and to lay down an early

warning net of sensors.

Unfortunately, the _Halsey_ did not emerge from the wormhole into the Orion cluster. Or rather, they did, but not in this universe.

And while they were in transit to Orion, something else quite unexpected happened on Earth.

----------------------------------------

_**White House**_

_**Oval Office**_

The man walked in as if the mere act of walking into the Oval Office were the most natural thing in the world. The President was sitting at his desk speaking with his Chief of Staff, Arnold van Damm, seated in front of the desk.

"Senator Kinsey? You're supposed to be dead!"

"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated, Mr. Ryan. I am quite alive as you can see. And you, sir, have no business sitting in that chair. I was very much against President Durling naming you as his Vice President, but I went along with it because he promised that you would serve out the remainder of the term and then fade away. Now I see that you have intentions to run for President in the next election and I, sir, will be running against you. You have left open that Pandora's Box called the Stargate and it has brought nothing but ill to this world. I'll see to it that no more funding is given to that project. That project must be closed! Furthermore, all these so-called Immortals, are nothing but freaks of humanity and they should be rounded up and dissected so that no one but the United States can benefit from their gift!"

"That would be a bad move, Senator. A very bad move indeed."

"It is in the best interest of the US, Mr. Ryan."

"That's President Ryan to you, Senator."

"I don't know what your game is, Kinsey, but I'll do my best to see that the truth is heard, particularly the transcript of the trial of the Consortium members. You see, before his sentence was imposed, Mr. Spender named you as an accomplice to their actions. Senator Matheson is now serving his 'prison' term. NID has been disbanded. You have no associates left, Senator. Do the US a favor and fade into obscurity."

"No, Mr. Van Damm, I won't."

The Senator from Maryland left the way he came, out the main door. He walked out of the White House like he owned it, like it was his house and like he would be back for good. He had every intention of being named President. And if he had his way, it would be President for Life.

"Jack, he's gonna be trouble. We need to nip that in the bud."

"Yes. We do. But how?"

"Let me work on that."

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_**AIS Strike Carrier Admiral Halsey**_

_**Main Bridge**_

_**Journey Day 1**_

The _Halsey_ was nearing the end of the ten minute wormhole transit when alarms began blaring out on the bridge.

"Sir! We're registering an overload on the wormhole projectors!"

"Shut them down!"

"We don't know what effect that will have on our transit!"

"A risk we'll have to take. Better to be stranded between stars than to ride a wormhole until we run out of fuel. There's enough fuel in those wormhole projectors to last a decade!"

"Shunting power!"

The _Halsey_ seemed to shudder for a brief moment before it was spat out of the wormhole at high velocity. The power shunt had directed the overload directly to the dimensional portal projectors, just as Tok'Ra had designed them to do so.

"We're out!"

"Flight deck! Launch Ready CAP!"

"Damage report!"

"Sir, the power overload was shunted, but we can't identify the system it was shunted to. Engineering is working the problem."

"Sensors! Report!"

"Area is clear out to a distance of five light years. "

"Weps?"

"All weapons systems showing green. Force field projectors all show green, sir."

"Navigation?"

"Not picking up any beacons from any Combat Gates. Stellar charts put us about ten light years distant from Epsilon Eridani system. Sir, according to the charts, we should be very near Kelowna."

"How near?"

"Two light years, sir."

"Sensors. Launch three cloaked probes. One at the Kelownan system, one towards Epsilon, the other towards Earth. Let's get some long range sensors training while we figure out what went wrong with the power flow."

"Aye sir. Probes launching now."

Three probes left the _Halsey_ in quick succession. They maneuvered for a few seconds to put them on a starting trajectory that would bring them to their targets. A second after their initial thrust maneuvers were complete, all three probes successfully cloaked and a second later, entered hyperspace. Because of the distances involved, Kelowna would be probed first, followed by Earth, then Epsilon. The sensors officer, Lt. Jameson, late of the Royal Navy, would monitor the probes for the duration of the exercise.

Without being told what to do, Major Carter was already working with the engineering crew to find the source of the problem. Minor injuries were being reported throughout the ship, but thankfully no casualties. While engineering worked the problem, others were taking the time to run drills. On the flight deck, Colonel O'Neill was directing the plane handlers to make ready for a combat launch. The hangars aboard the strike carriers had been designed to eject as many fighters at one time as was possible. In this case, that number was ninety. Each of the five primary hangar bays had eighteen launch catapults. The catapults were stacked three high and six across. Each bay could eject eighteen fighters at one time. O'Neill set up three bays with fighters and two with interceptors. A flight of bombers were standing by in one of the auxiliary bays as they were too large to launch out of the catapults.

The battlecruisers had detached from their mounts and were preparing their own flights of fighters for launch. All in all, it was excellent training and it gave the squadron leaders and the two strike wing commanders the chance to see where the problems were so they could fix them. By the time the deck crews had gone through two sets of 'pretend' combat launches, their set up times had improved from thirty minutes at the onset, to ten minutes on the latest pass. Still, O'Neill would not be satisfied until they cut that number in half.

On the Bridge, Lt. Jameson was seeing some startling information coming through from the three probes.

"Sir? I have the probe data."

"Main screen. What am I looking at?"

"This is the data from Kelownan probe. But Kelowna isn't there. Where it should be, there is only an asteroid field."

"How is that possible? Are there any indications of weapons fire?"

"No sir. The damage appears to be at least a million years old. Almost as if the planet was torn apart before it could properly form."

"Not good. What else?"

"Switching to probe feed from Earth sir. But none of the landmarks are there."

"Where the hell is _Independence_ _Station_? We only just left a little more than two hours ago?"

"Unknown sir. There's more. The main dome on Luna, the Colonial settlement on Mars. Both are gone, sir."

"Gone! What do you mean, gone!"

"Well, there are domes on Luna and Mars, but they're not the domes we know sir. There are a number of ships in the Sol system, but none are even remotely similar to the ships in our fleet, sir."

"That ship there. Lower left corner. Magnify."

"Aye sir. Looks like that says '_Agamemnon'_."

"That's my read too. Rotating hull sections? They must not have artificial gravity. Any comms intercepted by the probe, Jameson?"

"Yes sir. Picking up something called Interstellar News. Martial law? Sir, it appears as though Earth has declared martial law at home and on her colonies? What the hell?"

"Continue to monitor. Show me Epsilon."

"Aye sir. Switching to Epsilon probe feed."

"Oh my, that's a big station!"

"Confirmed sir. Probe data indicate it is five miles long. The probe is also picking up an odd gate-like device hanging in space near the station. Earth probe now picking up the same odd gate in that system near Io."

"Continue to monitor all probes. Pierson, you have the Conn. I'll be in my office."

"Sure, Marius."

----------------------------------------

An hour later, Lieutenant Jameson was standing in his office, adjacent to the main bridge, to report his findings.

"Summarize it for me, Jameson."

"Sir. I've run every scan I can think of in the Kelownan system. The damage to the planet we know as Kelowna appears to be millions of years old. There is no evidence whatsoever that there was ever any life on Kelowna. The only good news I have to report is that the asteroid field is extremely rich in naquadah, trinium, naquadria, and tylium. This is by far the richest field I've ever had the pleasure of seeing, not that I've seen very many. The field is a five minute hyperspace jump away sir, and within three days, we could have more than enough of those metals to build a dozen strike carriers."

"Well, that is something. What about Earth?"

"The news is not good at all there sir. I don't really know how to describe it sir, but none of what we knew is there. The probe picked up a signal from an atomic clock in the system and the year is 2260. Before you say anything, sir, it gets much worse. Apparently the nations of Earth have banded together to form one planetary government, with elected representatives from each member country. There is one leader of Earth, a President Morgan Clark. Sir, it is my opinion that the man in charge is playing with less than a full deck. There are dozens of news reports about how the alien influence is ruining Earth. There is an organization called Night Watch that sounds more like something out of Nazi Germany than anything modern. Clark has declared martial law and is actively hunting down anyone that speaks out against him. Earth has several off-world colonies and one space station. There is something else sir. It appears as commercial advertisement, so normally, I wouldn't put much stock into it, however, that it appears at all is what worries me."

"Spit it out, son."

"An advertisement on what to do should you suspect yourself or a friend is a psionic. There is an organization on Earth called Psi-Corps. Frankly sir, it scares the hell out of me, especially if someone can read my mind without my knowledge!"

"Continue to monitor Earth space and that station in Epsilon. I want to know what Earth does next and how that station responds. Dismissed."

"Aye sir."

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_**Immortal Shipyards**_

_**Immortal Design Bureau**_

_**Office of Mitch Guerra**_

He was in shock. Hell, the whole staff at the IDB was in shock. The first strike carrier to set out from the shipyard and it disappears. No wreckage, no escape pods, no sign of anything at all. When the _Halsey_ did not arrive on time, the _Houston_ and the _Moscow_ began searching along their projected course, with no results. Not that they found anything, it was the simple fact that they found absolutely nothing of the _Halsey_. That's what worried him.

This was his first opportunity in the last several hours, hell days actually, to sit down. All of the staff at the IDB were looking over the last telemetry data received at _Independence_ _Station_ before the _Halsey_ had entered her wormhole. But they could see nothing wrong in the readings. As far as they knew, everything was working according to specifications. Guerra put his head in his hands for a moment. The shock of it still setting in. The man he had called friend was gone.

He looked up after some time to realize that his computer screen was flashing 'new mail' at him. He hadn't noticed it before when he had walked in, and Mitch guessed that he must have been too shocked, too tired to notice.

"_Mitch, if you're reading this, then Tok'Ra's plan worked and I'm very far away. He told me I could tell three people of his request to me and guess what old buddy, you're number three. It seems that a few million years ago, when the Ancients were first exploring the universe, they used slow ships; the kind we would still be using had we not learned how to use the Stargate. Tok'Ra told me they set up three research teams. One designed and developed the Stargate. Another created the means of hyperspace travel. The third team, that's the one that concerns us the most. Or rather, the one that concerns me the most. You see, that third team developed a way to travel between dimensions. Yeah, I did say dimensions._

"_Anyways, the Ancients did a lot of exploring. This was all back before they evolved and you know what? They found the universe to be a lonely place. So they used their dimensional portal and guess what? Other universes were also lonely places. But they found in four places, the potential for humanoid life that was similar to our own. Or their own. I'm still not sure which of our species Tok'Ra was referring to. In any case, the Ancients set up at least four outpost worlds, one in each of the four universes they wanted to keep an eye on. _

"_Over time, they gathered a lot of intelligence and they made a few friends as well. And in time, the Ancients evolved and left our plane of existence. Guess what? After they evolved, they couldn't be bothered to maintain those outpost worlds. The gateway between dimensions was shut down, and the outpost worlds were forgotten. Until recently that is. Someone out there reminded Tok'Ra of what they had done so long ago. Someone out there told Tok'Ra that other, less benevolent races had chanced upon those outpost worlds and were using the technology there to enslave their universes. Normally that wouldn't affect any of us here, but unless that tech is retrieved, the chances that those other races could develop the dimensional technology are pretty darn high. Tok'Ra can't do this himself. So he's sending me._

"_But I have a favor to ask. I don't know how long I'll be gone and I don't know if I'll make it back alive, though I certainly will try. The information I have given you, you must promise me right now that you will take it to the grave. Now, about that favor. You'll find an attachment to this voice mail file. It's a new ship design I came up with after watching the Asgard video of the Goa'uld battle. It's a rather narrow ship, maybe only a couple hundred meters wide and six or seven hundred meters long. The strike carriers are great and in theory, they'll allow us to launch waves of fighters at an oncoming enemy. The big guns and the missile launch tubes are the only real offensive weapons the ship has however. The same is true of the battlecruisers, though they carry a whole lot less fighters._

"_So I had in mind something that would travel with the strike carrier group. A support ship of sorts. Two very large turrets fore and two very large turrets aft. Not rail guns. Not pulsar guns. I want these guns to fire plasma projectiles. Large plasma projectiles. The design also has numerous missile launchers mounted on the ship. The inspiration for the design came from the US Navy's Iowa class and from the Russian Kirov class. Look at those two for more ideas. Long range fire is what I'm after. Get with your teams and get to work on these new ships. They could mean the difference between victory or defeat when we face the Cylon battle fleets. I was thinking along the lines of four or six to support each strike carrier. In any case, I know you'll do your best with this design. I'll see you when I see you. Luck."_

Mitch had not expected that. Mail from Marco. He would keep the secret. He vowed that on his very soul.

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**AIS _Admiral Halsey_**

**Kelowna System**

**Journey Day 4**

The _Halsey_ had been prowling the asteroid field for three days now. In three days they had filled the raw metals storage tanks to overflowing. News had continued to come in via the probes from Earth and from the space station, now called by its name; Babylon 5. Just now, Marius was meeting with his senior officers and department heads in the officer's wardroom. Before he could say anything, however, he felt the tell tale tickle that signaled Tok'Ra's presence.

"Ok people, let's get down to business. I do believe Tok'Ra has something to say."

"I do Marius. I know that you have been monitoring Earth and the Babylon 5 station for some days now. I know that many of you believe you have been cast into the far future. That is not correct. When your ship entered the wormhole, I directed my energies into a set of projectors mounted along the bow of this ship. These projectors allowed your ship to breach the barriers between dimensions. I do not wish to trifle with your lives, yet I must ask a dangerous favor from you and your ship mates. Before the Ancients evolved, we were exploring this universe that you now find yourselves in. Then we moved from this plane of existence and we chose to forget about our explorations. In doing so we left numerous outposts laden with a number of technologies. Technologies that could help in your coming war. But we left them. And others found them. Now, these others use our technologies to wage war. You must retrieve these technologies and set the balance again in these four universes. Until those four tasks are accomplished, the dimensional projectors will not allow you to return to your home universe.

"You are quite alone out here. There are no Goa'uld. No Nox. No Asgard. You may find friends that can help you in the long term, but you will have to help them first. I will be around, from time to time, to offer my counsel to Marius. My first bit of advice is that you ally yourselves with Babylon 5. There you will find representatives of the two races the Ancients met long ago."

And with that, Tok'Ra ceased his speech and moved to a hover in the background.

"Well, I guess that explains what we thought was time travel."

"Sure seems that way, Major Carter."

"Did you know about this Adam?"

"No I did not. But I suspect Marius did."

"I did. You all may hate me for it. But I knew. I've known for a month now. So here's what we're going to do. You all are going to leave this room and talk to the crews under you. This will be the only time we'll take this as a vote. If your crews decide to honor Tok'Ra and his request, then we'll keep the info about us being from another dimension to ourselves. We'll make up a story to tell any we encounter. Go now, and discuss it amongst yourselves. I'll be in my quarters, awaiting your decision."

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_**Marius' Living Quarters**_

"What if they decide against you Marius?"

"Then I will ask you to return them, to return this ship. I will do as you ask. I will take the _Dallas_ and continue this journey."

"You are a most honorable man, Marius."

"Thank you father."

Marius busied himself, preparing for the worst and hoping for the best. He knew it would take time to brief everyone in on this situation. Time he may not have to spare, but it was the right thing to do. The odds were not in his favor. So he concentrated on what supplies he would need to turn the _Dallas_ into a one man operation. And no matter how many times he tried to do just that, all the answers came up against him. Who could he count on to stay with him? No one. Sure, maybe his three bodyguards, but he wouldn't ask that of them. Who else? He honestly could not answer that question.

A span of several hours later, that question was answered for him. Continue the mission. Do what we must. Then get home and ensure the safety of Earth and her allies.

"Admiral's on the bridge!"

"As you were. Mr. Jameson, your report."

"The Mars colony was bombed a few hours ago. Earth is getting very desperate to control its off-world colonies. Forces were dispatched to Proxima and Orion to re-take those 'rebellious' colonies. It looks like they're leaving Babylon 5 for the end as it looks like Babylon 5 has some serious allies."

"Helm, plot a course for Babylon 5. All stations, this is the Admiral. Set condition yellow. That is all."

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_**Babylon 5**_

_**Command and Control Center**_

Outside the station, the former EA vessels _Alexander_ and _Churchill_ were the only two that made it on time. Any other 'rebellious' EA vessels would be unable to jump to the station in time to help them. Ambassador Delenn had left only an hour previously to try and talk the Grey Council and the rest of the Minbari into helping Babylon 5 stand against those influenced by the Shadows. Captain Sheridan was at his station in C&C while Commander Ivanova had opted to lead the station's Thunderbolt squadrons. Security was at its highest level of alert and all were waiting. The anxious wait before a major battle. Ask any warrior and they'll tell you the wait is worse, far worse, than the fighting itself.

In his quarters, the Vorlon moved to the door. It was an unusual creature. Standing at somewhere between six and seven feet tall, the outer suit belied the power of the creature within. A long flowing robe covered what? No one knew the answer to that particular question. A set of shoulders and a simple pod in between the shoulders that held a single eye. A cyclopean eye. All the more with which to intimidate any one else but another Vorlon or possibly a Shadow. The Vorlon could feel the approach of the Ancient.

Elsewhere, the three Shadow agents felt the same. They chittered loudly to one another. Their human counterpart, Mr. Morden, had never seen them so upset.

"Who comes?"

More squeaks and chitters.

"The Ancient? What do you mean?"

The chitters were angrier now.

"A first one?"

Long and drawn out squeaks and whistles.

"Not a first one? The First Teacher? The First Teacher comes?"

A single chitter.

"That can not be good."

The three Shadows agreed with their human counterpart though they did not give voice to the agreement. Amongst themselves, they were both anxious and overjoyed that the Ancient was returning. Perhaps now, the Vorlons would see just wrong they are.

Of course, the Vorlons on the Vorlon home world did not know that the Ancient had returned. Nor did the Shadows at Z'ha'dum. Only Kosh and the three Shadows knew. The others would know soon enough.

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_**Command and Control**_

It was a sight that none in C&C would ever forget. The Vorlon Ambassador gliding into C&C. Captain Sheridan turned as Kosh entered. But before Sheridan could utter a single word, Kosh spoke.

"The Ancient. Comes. Now."

Sheridan could not begin to guess what that meant. In the three seconds that had elapsed since Ambassador Kosh spoke, the jump gate had activated and four EA destroyers came through the opening.

"_Babylon 5. You will power down your weapons and stand down. Or we will be forced to take the station by force and you, Captain Sheridan, will stand trial for treason. I'll give you two minutes to think about it."_

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_**AIS Halsey**_

The strike carrier came out of hyperspace just shy of the station. The ship was immense and the station and the EA destroyers both turned their attention to the incredibly huge vessel.

"Attention all vessels. This is the AIS strike carrier _Admiral Halsey_. Babylon 5 is under our protection. You will stand down or we will defend the station. You have one minute to comply."

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_**B5 C&C**_

"…_you have one minute to comply_."

"Who the hell is that?" asked Captain Sheridan.

"The Ancient. Is. Here. The. First. Circle. Is complete." Responded Kosh.

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_**EA vessel Clarkstown**_

"Target that ship. If it so much as twitches, I want it blown out of my space!"

"Targeting…unable to obtain target lock sir. Must be using some kind of stealth tech. Almost like the Minbari?"

"That looks like no Minbari warship I've ever seen. If it is Minbari, then it's a radical change from the types of ships we normally see from them. Deploy fighter squadrons. Weapons, do the best you can and fire at that monstrosity!"

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_**AIS Halsey**_

"Shields are up and at full power sir!"

"Target those destroyers! Fire as they come to bear!"

The first strikes from the _Clarkstown_ impacted on the shield surrounding the _Halsey_, illuminating the field. The weapons officers aboard the four EA vessels could do nothing but watch as their first missile strikes failed to hit anything at all. The forward laser batteries were firing constantly, but were having no effect at all, other than to illuminate the boundaries of whatever field the ship was using.

"No effect sir! They have some sort of shield protecting them!"

"Weapons officer! Target that vessel with four of our nuclear warheads!"

"Sir! The radiation will kill those on the station!"

"Fuck the station! Fire!"

Four missiles came out of the _Clarkstown_ at high speed. Aboard the _Halsey_, the sensors officer raised a shout of alarm.

"Sir! Incoming missiles. Radiological warning! Scanners indicate nuclear yields on those missiles!"

"Weps! Target those incoming missiles and fire Standards!"

"Firing Standards!"

"Comms! Get our fighters away from here, full burn!"

"All fighter wings! The _Halsey_ is under radiologic attack! Break now!"

Four missiles came in hot and true. The Standards carried by the _Halsey_ and all currently planned ships of her class were the same Surface to Air missiles carried on surface warships of Earth. Until now, they were untested in space. The first was intercepted a scant thousand meters from the outer force shield of the _Halsey_. Though Marco had theorized that his shields would withstand a nuclear explosion in close proximity, that theory had never been put to the test. Until now. The missiles used by the EA ships had been equipped with proximity sensors. The impact by the first of the interceptors had caused a premature detonation and the nuclear energies washed against the outer defense shield. A second impact closely followed the first and the combined energies of two five hundred kiloton warheads brought down the first shield.

Unknown for the moment, an ancient power within the planet of Epsilon 3 threw up an instantaneous shield around the Babylon 5 station, blocking the frenzied radiation that spewed forth from the nuclear warhead impacts. The instant the radiation had dissipated to more tolerable levels, the shield faded.

But the _Halsey_, like all of the other ships in the fleet, from fighters to shuttles to the battlecruisers, had been designed with three layers of shields, each one more powerful than the previous one. The captain on the _Clarkstown_ had seen his first two missiles impact on the shields and seen no apparent damage to the ship, so he ordered another volley of four missiles fired.

The next two missiles of the original volley were absorbed by the second defense field, though the field itself was weakened by more than half. Then two more rockets came in and the second field fell. Now the only thing standing between the personnel aboard the _Halsey_ and certain nuclear death was a last defensive field. And more missiles were incoming. With all the nuclear explosions, communications with the fighter wings was disrupted, but O'Neill, in one of the fighters, saw the defense fields fall and he ordered his nearest wingmen to follow him into the ship firing those nuclear weapons.

Other fighters and bombers around them saw their actions and followed them in. Space was awash in waves of radiation emanating from the explosions on the _Halsey_, but the pilots who called that ship their home were angry. Angry that they might not have a home to return to. Angry enough to take on the four EA destroyers that were attacking them and the station. Fighters and interceptors swarmed over the four destroyers and their stings, though small, hurt the bigger ships. They cleared the way for the larger bombers to come in and launch their plasma bombs at the destroyers.

Jack saw in his peripheral vision one of the battlecruisers as its shields failed spectacularly. Just as more fighters were swarming over it, it made a short jump into hyperspace and emerged on the far side of the station, where two more of its sister ships were there to aid it.

And Jack saw more in the next few seconds than he would ever recall later in his life. A wing of bombers rushed at the _Clarkstown_ and laid waste to her engines and weapons, then a final strike and the ship was shorn in two. Other bomber wings, seeing the tactics used by their fellow pilots, imitated them, and shortly, there were eight odd sized pieces of EA destroyers adrift in space. His mind processed only what he saw directly in front of him, and that was the 'enemy' fighter in his sights. It performed stunts and maneuvers he could not hope to imitate, but he didn't have to. He fired a pair of Venom missiles at the target, and they matched each turn and about face the target made before impacting the target and obliterating it. Behind him, on the _Halsey_, things were not fairing well.

"Sir! Shields down to eight percent! We can't take another hit like that last one!"

"Engineering! Channel all available power to the shields!"

"Nothing left to re-route!"

"Standards away!" came the shout of a harried weapons officer.

Just seconds before the latest round of missiles impacted the ship, the helmsman saw what the _Dallas_ had done and did the same thing. The wounded battlecruiser had jumped to hyperspace to avoid the fighters pursuing it and so he activated the Hyperdrive and jumped them two million kilometers to starboard, and the missiles missed!

"Who ordered that jump?"

"Sir, I saw the _Dallas_ do the same thing and figured it would work for us."

"Excellent thinking! You just saved our butts!" Mentally, Marius was telling himself that the helmsman deserved at the very least a promotion. But then he looked out at the view screen and saw four more EA destroyers making the jump into the system.

Indeed, four more Earth Alliance destroyers had made the transition from hyperspace into normal space. They had been sent as a sort of back-up force, in the long shot case that the first four destroyers would run into trouble, though the military had doubted that. Now, though, as the captain of one of the ships looked out and saw the other four destroyers, or rather he saw parts of them, he doubted that even his force would be enough to stop Sheridan. Of course, he didn't know about the _Halsey_.

"Attention Earth Alliance ships. Babylon 5 is under our protection. Vacate this area immediately or we will be forced to destroy you as well."

"Weps, bring the main guns on-line and target those new ships. Target engines and weapons emplacements first."

"Aye sir."

Whatever doubts the bridge crew had had about an Immortal being named Captain of the _Halsey_, even for the extended space trials, were gone, like a gossamer mist.

Aboard the newly arrived EA destroyer _Olympic_, the captain thought that an all-out assault was his best option and the four destroyers turned as one to meet the very large ship to port. Fighters raced out from their mother ships and sped forward to intercept the _Halsey_. But the _Halsey_'s fighters were already there, meeting them. In a battle that lasted only a few tens of seconds, the _Halsey_'s fighters were victorious and the EA fighters, though more nimble, were no match for their heavier guns. Now, bright beams of plasma energies lanced out from the _Halsey_ and struck true on the weapons emplacements of the new destroyers. These were followed by large naquadah encased rounds from the rail guns and a single conventional Shipwreck targeted at each destroyer. They had been de-clawed in a decisive strike. The ranking Earth Force Captain gave the order, though it pained him to do so. Retreat. And while the ships were turning about preparing to enter hyperspace, everyone of their scanning beams was raking over the _Halsey_, taking in reams of data on the fighting capabilities of this ship. A moment later, they had safely entered hyperspace.

And just as the crews on the _Halsey_ and aboard Babylon 5 were about to take a breath, four more jump points opened, spewing forth four Minbari Ships of the Line and a single _WhiteStar_. On board the _WhiteStar_, Delenn and the crew around her looked out onto the field of battle and saw nothing but destruction. They also saw a very large ship, nearly three-fifths the size of the station, waiting there, as if ready to pounce.

"Attention unidentified ship. I am Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari Federation. Stand down or we will be forced to fire on you."

"_Ambassador, it is you who must stand down. Your ships are targeted and locked into our systems. We will fire and destroy you if you so much as breathe too loudly."_

Delenn looked to one side and confirmed that this new ship had them targeted and no matter what they tried, they could not break the targeting lock.

In C&C, Sheridan looked out at the two sides and realized they meant to fire on one another.

"Delenn, _Halsey_. Stop! We're all on the same side!"

It was a desperate plea, shouted out by a man who had seen more deaths in the previous thirty minutes than he had seen during the entire Earth-Minbari war.

"_Halsey_. Standing down."

----------------------------------------

"Captain Sheridan, are you sure of their intentions?"

"No Delenn, I'm not. But they did just save us all. I'll keep an open mind about it for now."

"As will I."

----------------------------------------

"_Halsey_ to Station. We have a lot of pilots down and we're sure you do as well. We are launching Search and Rescue now."

Marius turned to one side and gave the order for the SAR squadrons to launch and pick up their pilots and any other pilots they happened to find. The medical deck was prepped to received an influx of wounded. Dr. Scully was expecting the worst to come through the doors of the med bays and so she made sure that all would be treated accordingly. The dozen sarcophagi they had on board, a gift from Lord Yu, were standing by to revive the newly dead and heal the most critical of cases. Asgard stasis pods were also standing by to stabilize those who could not immediately go into a sarcophagus. Elsewhere, five Tok'ra, who had volunteered to serve on this ship, were opening up their medical bags and withdrawing the Healing Devices. Though they would be unable to heal a fatal wound or even bring back the dead, they could stabilize those with serious wounds until more proper medical facilities could be gotten to.

The hangar decks were awash with craft that were coming in from the fighting. Some were damaged beyond repair and as such they would be cannibalized for whatever spare parts they would yield. Others needed only minor repairs to be made flyable again. Though the vast majority of the squadrons had taken part in the fighting, a few had been left in reserve. Now, these reserve squadrons were launching and were flying cover for the SAR squadrons whose job it was to find and pick up the escape pods of dozens of fighters from the _Halsey_, and the suited pilots of the destroyed _Starfury_ and Thunderbolt fighters. Shuttles were also launching to pick up the survivors in the ripped apart EA destroyers.

Four of the battlecruisers were nudging the larger parts of the EA destroyers into a temporary holding area where it was thought by some of the engineers aboard the _Halsey_, that they could be repaired and pressed into service. The _Dallas_ had been damaged in one of the nuclear explosions and had to be towed back to its docking port on the _Halsey_ by the _Kiev_ and the _Ryan_.

It was several hours before all of the escape pods had been located and the wounded treated. In one of the storage rooms aboard the _Halsey_, some five hundred Earth Alliance personnel were awaiting their fate. Many had been near death, only to be fully healed a short time after they were picked up. Their weapons had been stripped away from them, sure, but they were alive. It felt truly good to be alive just then.

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_**Babylon 5**_

_**Command and Control**_

"AIS _Halsey_ calling Babylon 5. We have a number of EA prisoners aboard. Frankly we're not sure where their loyalties lie. We'd like to hand them over to you and we'd like to meet you, if at all possible."

"_Halsey_. I am Captain John Sheridan of Babylon 5. You have clearance to land."

From the _Halsey_, a single _Bulldog_ class attack Tel'tac emerged followed closely by a squadron of _Mustang_ class fighters. These in turn were followed by a dozen Tel'tacs carrying the rescued EA personnel. The fighters peeled out of formation with the _Bulldog_ and took up patrol routes that would lead them around the station and around the _Halsey_. The attack shuttle had been a very late addition to the _Halsey_ and so there were only six of them aboard. From the outside, they looked like the standard Tel'tac, but that's where the resemblance stopped. Within the _Bulldog_, was a crew compartment for thirty fast reaction troopers and their equipment, while on the exterior there were four large rail guns, and retractable missile launchers underneath. On this particular _Bulldog_, O'Neill and Teal'c were at the controls, with Carter and Methos at the single weapons station, and the sensors stations, respectively. Dr. Jackson had joined the First Contact team and was standing along side Fox Mulder. All were armed with zat guns. Marius had brought his three bodyguards along and while they carried zat guns, they also carried the new staff weapons that Hamza had crafted for them prior to their departure. The staffs each encased a single long blade of a trinium-titanium alloy that could slice through a wall made of diamond, albeit very thin diamond, like a hot knife through butter. But to anyone looking, the staffs were just that, walking sticks. A last minute addition to the First Contact team had been D'Fir, one of the Tok'ra medics, on the chance that there would be wounded aboard the station.

The _Bulldog_ made its approach and the pilots aboard followed the landing cues generated by the automated docking systems of Babylon 5 to a soft touch down not twelve feet away from a group of individuals. Landing struts deployed and the ship was down. Then a large hatch irised open on the side of the _Bulldog_ and its occupants began coming out.

"Greetings. I am Fleet Admiral Marco Ramos of the Alliance of Independent Systems. With me here for this first contact occasion is Major Fox Mulder, our resident Ambassador. Dr. Daniel Jackson, his assistant and mission specialist."

Before Marco could complete his introductions, the Vorlon approached.

"To my left is…and what the hell are you?"

"Child of the Ancient. I am honored in your presence."

"Whoa. Hold on a second there. I'm not that old!"

Sheridan mumbled under his breath to Ivanova that the words spoken by Kosh were by far the most clear thing he'd ever heard a Vorlon say.

"Well, that just took the wind out of my introductions. But somehow, I don't think I am who you think I am."

"Are you a First One?"

"A first one what? What do you mean? Uhm, who's on first?"

"Sorry. It's rare to hear more than a few words from a Vorlon. I'm Captain John Sheridan. This is Michael Garibaldi, Chief of Station Security. Lt. Commander Susan Ivanova, my second in command. Dr. Stephen Franklin, Chief Medical Officer. Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari Federation. And I believe you've already met Ambassador Kosh of the Vorlon Empire."

"Hello. Uhm, after that little bit with Kosh I'd rather hoped that not all of you would be the same. But first things first. Where should we direct the other shuttles to land? The ones with the EA personnel we rescued?"

"Susan, get C&C to handle that."

"Yes Captain."

"I'm afraid that you will have to surrender your weapons."

"Of course. But they only stun. And they are for our protection."

"Sorry. Station policy."

"Very well then. People, leave the Zats on the _Bulldog_."

"Captain Sheridan, may my three assistants and I carry our walking sticks? They are more an insignia of rank than actual weapons. Besides, I'm fairly certain that any weapons you have would severely negate the effectiveness of a walking staff."

"That will be permitted."

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_**Elsewhere on the Station**_

Excited chitters and squeals.

"He's here?"

A single squeak.

"I must make plans to meet with the Ancient. He must be made to see that it is our forces that are in the right here, not the damned Vorlons."

A lot more chitters, more excited than before.

"Children of the Ancient? Is that good or bad?"

A non-committal squeak.

"Well, hell. If you don't know, then I guess I'm supposed to find out, right?"

There was no answering chitter or squeak.

A beeping screen caught his attention and he called it to open.

"Citizen G'Kar, the news of the Earth Alliance defeat has already reached us. Do whatever is necessary to obtain a sample of the technologies used by the new ship."

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_**Another beeping screen elsewhere on the station.**_

"Ambassador Mollari! If the news of the Earth Alliance defeat is true, then we simply must have these new weapons! You will do everything possible to achieve that goal!"

Within the Vorlon ship, a single message was beamed out across the stars to the Vorlon home world. It simply said, 'The First Teacher, the Ancient has returned.'

The three Shadows joined as one and sent their own message. 'The Ancient is here. The First Teacher has returned to us. Now.'

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_**Conference Room**_

_**Babylon 5**_

_**Journey Day 6**_

Two sets of humans walked in to a large conference room, and took seats at the table. Kyra and Reagan, two of Marius' guards took up station outside the door to the conference room, while Alison followed them in. When all were seated, she stood along the wall behind Marius. And when all were seated, it was Marius who spoke first.

"Before we begin Captain, I am noticing that Mr. Garibaldi is looking rather piqued? Your injuries must pain you. My medic can attend to your injuries. I assure you that she will cause you no pain."

Dr. Franklin stepped forward to observe the medic and the healing device. He gave it a cursory scan, but could not read anything useful with his scanner. He gave the go ahead to allow the medic to treat Mr. Garibaldi.

D'Fir had been with the Tok'ra for a number of centuries, having been one of the last 'children' born to Egeria. Her current host was Tarissa, a female from Argos. Though the Tok'ra had no use for the medical sciences per se, there was a desperate need for medical researchers. As D'Fir/Tarissa were the closest thing to a medical person, and with the Tok'ra Council all too aware of Anise's problems with the Tau'ri, she had been chosen for this mission.

With the Healing Device in hand, D'Fir eyes began to glow as she took control from Tarissa. With some concentrated effort, the pain in Garibaldi's arm and leg dissipated and he rather quickly began flexing his arm and walking normally.

"Mr. Garibaldi. Your arm and leg have both been healed. But do try not to tax them much over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I and my host thank you for this opportunity to demonstrate our good will towards your people."

"You and your host? Admiral Ramos, what did she mean by that?"

"Captain. Medic D'Fir is of a race known as the Tok'ra. They are a blended race and they 'timeshare' their bodies. D'Fir is the symbiote half, Tarissa is the human half. This is but one of the many things you will learn about us. Though we had no intention of becoming involved in whatever troubles you have with the present Earth Government, we fear we are already inextricably involved. We were sent here to retrieve certain technologies left by our Ancient parents. Technologies, that most certainly are being used by the Vorlons and the race you call Shadows. A million years ago, those whom the Vorlon called the Ancients came to your part of the galaxy and established an outpost world from which they launched numerous scientific expeditions to study the local sentient life. Over the course of centuries, perhaps millennia, the outpost world was abandoned and forgotten and the technologies therein left for the two most promising races at the time. It was hoped that the automated defenses of the outpost world would be sufficient to ward off all.

"I have been told by an Ancient that the Vorlons and the Shadows are in possession of these technologies, that they have tragically misused them for their own twisted views of sentient life exploration. That they have manipulated the younger races in order to form stronger armies, so that they may battle by proxy. Do not deny this, Vorlon."

"We do not deny this. What was done was necessary."

"Necessary in whose eyes, Vorlon?"

"Necessary for this universe."

"A valid point, Vorlon. You see Captain, while we are genetically similar, you and I, we are not identical. Our vessel and the people aboard her, we come from Earth. Though it is perhaps an Earth that you would not expect. The Ancients came to this universe via a dimensional portal of their own creation. Tampering with the various dimensions is not recommended, even with the best of intentions. The reason they came here, was to seek out life similar enough to their own. They found, instead, the Vorlons and the Shadows, to which the Ancients became the First Teachers."

"An alternate universe Admiral Ramos? I find that hard to believe."

"It is true Captain. The universe from which we came, the Earth from which we came, well, there is no easy way to put this. The year we left on our journey, two weeks ago, was two thousand and three. The very early years of the twenty-first century. Pray tell, could your Earth of the same time have built a ship such as the _Halsey_?"

"No." there was a hint of defeat in Sheridan's voice.

"Now Captain. The Vorlon has called me the Ancient, but I am not. I am a child of the Ancients, but I am not old enough to be an Ancient. There is, however, an Ancient among us. Tok'Ra?"

Those who belonged to the universe of Babylon 5 had seen many strange types of aliens in their travels, but nothing in their collective experiences prepared them for the first sight of the Ancient. A golden glowing cloud of gas with sparkly particles flying in chaotic and eccentric orbits throughout the body of the cloud.

From the Vorlon, they saw what they did not expect to ever see, an Encounter Suit opening before them. The blue energy being within flew out of the suit to flit about the edge of the golden cloud. The blue cloud tried to merge with the golden cloud and was rebuffed and expelled violently to the far side of the room. Then the blue cloud withdrew and re-entered the Suit. The Vorlon spoke.

"Have I displeased you, Ancient One?"

"No my child, you have not. But you are not yet old enough to merge with me fully. To do so now would mean your complete annihilation. That is not something I wish."

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_**Vorlon Home World**_

The message had been received by the Vorlon Ruling Council. The Ancient had returned. And it had gone to the human place called Babylon 5, as was foretold millennia past. The orders went quickly through the fleet. And very shortly after the message was acknowledged, the largest ever assembled Vorlon fleet entered hyperspace. Their destination? Babylon 5

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_**Z'ha'dum**_

The excited chitters and squeals could be heard throughout the numerous Shadow cities of Z'ha'dum. The Ancient One, the first teacher, had returned to their universe. By the time the Shadow Triad on Babylon 5 received an acknowledgement of their message, a very large Shadow fleet had phased into hyperspace. Their destination the same as the Vorlons. Babylon 5.

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_**Babylon 5**_

_**Journey Day 7**_

The initial meet and greet had gone well. Marius was now in temporary quarters in the Green section of Babylon 5; that area reserved for Ambassadors and VIPs. Major Mulder, acting as Ambassador, and Dr. Jackson, were both ensconced in meetings with some of the staff of Babylon 5.

Alison, one of the bodyguards assigned to Marius, was in the room with him, while Reagan and Kyra were standing just outside the door to their combined quarters. Alison was trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, considering that Tok'Ra was in the room, speaking with Marius.

"My child. You must be very cautious in the days to come. I fear the Vorlons and the Shadows will both try to influence you to their cause. I have slightly altered your Quickening to allow you to perceive the Shadows, as they can shift their bodies out of phase with everything around you. You may or may not be able to see them directly, in their full form, unless you stare at one for some time, but you will be able to sense their presence, and you will be able to target them should that become necessary. I have granted you the ability to understand their speech directly, though it may be of some benefit to allow their human avatar the illusion that he is speaking for them."

"Father, I will do the right thing. I must."

"Do not be troubled, child. There are potential allies here for the fight at home, but you must seek and judge that on your own. My only concern here is that the more devastating technologies be removed from this universe. Anything beyond that, is entirely up to you."

"You're a lot of help."

"I can not be with you always. Some mistakes you must make on your own. I think I will go for now. There is someone I would like to see."

Tok'Ra vanished into the ether. Not vanished really, merely faded from sight. Where he was going or who he wanted to see in this universe were unknown to him. He paid little attention, when his guards shifted their stations, allowing Alison and Reagan to stand the watch outside, whilst Kyra came in for a quick bite to eat.

Marius took the time, at last, to study the weapons that Hamza ibn Mohammed al Katib had wrought for him and his guards. It was a finely crafted staff of Lebanese cedar, with various verses from the Koran and the Christian Bible carved into the wood. He knew not where the one phrase came from, whether the Koran or the Bible, but he saw the truth in it. 'In strength, there is peace. In peace, there is unity. In Unity, there is strength.' A bit of a circular argument, but sound nonetheless. Of course, the outside was merely a façade for the inner weapon. The wooden staff housed a fine double edged blade, a full forty inches in length, made of an alloy of trinium and titanium. The handle of the sword was the top half of the staff, and had been wrapped in leather, so as to make for an easier grab of the weapon. The handle was of the blade was hollow, having a removable cap, not unlike the popular survival knives in various movies. But instead of the usual survival gear, the handle had several short lengths of detonating cord, which could be used to cut one's way out of a cell. There were two pairs of color-coded and quite small plastic-coated wooden capsules that must have been a bitch to carve, that contained a binary fire starting agent, for when one was stuck in the field with no matches.

The staff itself was close to six feet in length. But the blade did not account for all of the interior space. Near the bottom of the staff, was a trio of hidden compartments, that could be opened only by twisting the bottom 'dial' into the correct combination. One compartment contained the usual survival gear that would be found in any survival type of knife. Another compartment had lock picking tools. The last compartment held a tube made of refined trinium, approximately six inches in length and half an inch in diameter. It was a pen-gun. Single shot only, with ten additional rounds in the compartment, in the fifty caliber Action Express variety. The rounds themselves were modified hollow points, that had been filled in with curare and sealed with a thin layer of lead. All in all, Hamza had done a fine job indeed. But before Marius could pull the blade and meditate upon it, there was a chime at the door, shortly followed by Reagan's announcement that a Mr. Morden wished to speak with him. Marius bade him enter and asked Kyra to step outside for the moment.

"Mr. Morden is it? How may I help you?"

"It is I who can help you, Child of the Ancients."

"I really wish people would stop calling me that. Speak plainly Mr. Morden. Call me Marco."

In the background, Marius could see the three Shadow creatures, or at least get a vague impression of them. He concentrated on Morden, but was looking slightly behind him, trying to get a better look at the Shadow. Two of the creatures were beside and slightly behind Morden, while the third was circling his quarters and examining his things.

"Very well. Marco. I am told that you are a descendant of a race called the Ancients. That they were the teachers to the Shadows and to the Vorlons. That they went beyond the rim untold millennia ago."

"Went beyond the rim? I'm not sure what that means. But I think what you are trying to say is that they evolved?"

"That would be one way of saying it, yes."

"Then yes. What you have been told is correct. The Ancients came to this galaxy, long ago seeking out life not unlike their own. They found the Shadows and the Vorlons and sought to enlighten them. To raise them up as they would eventually do to their children, to us. Your Shadows and the Vorlons were an experiment, you might say. To mold and shape those two races so that one day, in the fullness of time, those two races might mold and shape those races younger than they. It is my understanding, that these two elder races took it upon themselves to mold and shape the universe according to two different philosophies?"

"Different perhaps, but with the same goal in mind."

"Expansion through conquest and scientific advancement versus introspection and spiritual growth. Order versus chaos. Forceful conquest versus peaceful expansion. The philosophies are quite diverse, but your goal is the same, advancement. A philosopher from my area of the galaxy calls it survival of the fittest. I wonder, do the younger races here realize just how much you are controlling them? Trying to shape them into what you deem the correct heir for your goals?"

"When the time is right, they will know."

"But not before. What the Ancients attempted with your two races, they accomplished with mine. In my own galaxy, the Ancients sired us, or created us, depending on which is more palatable to one's tastes. They took the knowledge of what they had attempted here and cast that into us. Along with a few other abilities. In the fullness of time, I too, may evolve into a being that you would term an Ancient. But I am not nearly old enough for that. In a few hundred thousand years perhaps I will be ready."

This last was directed not at Morden, but at the Shadow next to him.

"Mr. Morden, if you would be so kind, one of your companions' is tickling my neck and it is not a feeling I enjoy. Yes. Do not seem so shocked, sir. I am, as you said, a Child of the Ancient. Did you not think I could sense your companions?"

"Their appearance does not bother you? I have known their appearance to be frightful to most of the other races on the station."

"Their appearance does not bother me. In my own galaxy there are far more sinister looking aliens. But that is a tale for another time. But I would imagine the appearance issue to be some sort of indoctrination handed down over the course of generations, no? But that is not the reason I am here."

This time, it was one of the Shadow Triad that spoke to Marius, not Morden. And all he heard was a series of long winded chitters, squeaks, and something resembling a high pitched whistle.

"I am here to reclaim certain technologies that both you and the Vorlons have seen fit to take from the outpost world we left behind. Two were taken by the Shadows. Three by the Vorlons. And I would guess that had you arrived prior to the Vorlons, you would have taken what they thought more important. The two devices you took, though you have turned them into machines of war, were designed to terraform worlds, not destroy them. You took a ship designed to terraform ice worlds into tropical worlds and turned it into a devastator of worlds. You took a nanocytic entity that the Ancients used to transform worlds with toxic environments to human compatible ones, and turned it into a plague dispersing agent that can wipe an entire sentient race from a planet. Such were not the intent of the original creations. You have manipulated those tools to your own devices and now, the entire galaxy may suffer for your arrogance.

"Go now, Shadow Triad, and think on what you have done. Before the day is out, I am certain I will have a private chat with Kosh, and he will learn the same from me. Think on what you have learned here this day. And think on what you will do in the future."

Marius hoped with all his being that he had done the right thing; taken the right stance with the Shadows. It seemed an instinct to be slightly aggressive with them, but he was unsure as to the outcome. Only time would tell if he had done the right thing. But he had no time to ponder the potential outcomes of his diatribe with the Shadows, for no sooner had they left, than the Vorlon came to him. The one thing he could say about this particular meeting, was that Kosh was accompanied by a rather gorgeous female. Alien or not, Kosh had very good taste.

"Ambassador Kosh. Greetings. And who is your lovely companion?"

"She is of no import to these proceedings. She is here merely to ascertain your truthfulness."

"If she's a truth serum, then I definitely want to lie. What is your name, Miss?"

"Lyta Alexander. Commercial telepath, rating P5."

"I have no idea what your rating means, Ms. Alexander. My part of the universe doesn't know much about telepathy."

Lyta found that statement to be odd, considering that Kosh had professed to her the fact that this man was a child of an Ancient. Kosh had shown her through the Learning, the Vorlons history with the Ancients. Immortality certainly held a modest attraction for her. She attempted a surface scan and was rebuffed. It was unlike any other telepathic block she had ever experienced. Almost as if his mind were surrounded by the same type of light she experienced through the Learning. Now she put those Vorlon enhanced telepathic powers to the test, but still she could not penetrate through to his mind. Such was the power of an Immortal mind.

"Ms. Alexander, if you're quite through in your attempts to scan me, we shall proceed."

She was in shock! Only another telepath could have felt her subtle surface scans, and only another trained like she was, enhanced by the Vorlons, could have detected her enhanced scan! But he had detected it all the same and had repelled her every attempt to penetrate his shields.

"Now then, Kosh. I must say, offhand, dealing with you will be a tad easier. I tend to like to put a name to the person with whom I am speaking. I certainly can not pronounce any name the Shadow Triad attempted to give me. My tongue and vocal cords do not work that way."

"The Shadows have come to see you?"

"Indeed they have. We had a rather involved conversation not more than twenty minutes ago regarding philosophy. Particularly yours and theirs and how you both tend to take advantage of the younger races in this part of the universe. You ask a question to all whom you encounter and it makes those whom you ask look inward to seek the answer. While that may be well and good, no civilization advances for long without expansion by conquest. You firmly believe that your philosophy is the right one for the younger races, yes? And the Shadows believe that theirs is also the right one. Now, all things being equal, both of you can't be right. But both of you can be wrong. But that is a discussion for another time. The reason we are here, is to retrieve technologies that you thought to take from their outpost world. Had the Shadows arrived prior to you, they would have seen what you saw; one of the Ancients using a dimensional portal.

"You chose to take that portal, though they anticipated that you would find the device and shut it down. And thus while the portal was non-operational, you willfully chose to examine it, to study it. I daresay, that it took my 'parents', the Ancients, a few millennia to perfect the device. Tell me you did not build such a device, or attempt to build such a device?"

"One mistake. Among so many mistakes. Set adrift in hyperspace. Our attempt to follow you failed. We nearly set loose upon this galaxy a plague the likes of which it would not have survived. We were very nearly destroyed by that which we very nearly released. We have never again sought to pursue any research along those matters."

"Yes, but then you did as the Shadows did, and took from them and perverted, those technologies that they had created to transform and terraform worlds for human inhabitation. You took those technologies and perverted them into weapons of war. Now I daresay, you attack any race that has been tainted by the Shadows, just as they attack any race that has been influenced by Vorlon wills. When will it end, Kosh? When will it end? No need to answer that, Kosh, as it was a rhetorical question."

"The Vorlon High Council will soon arrive."

"As will the Shadow High Council. And when they do, your kind must not initiate hostilities against them. To do so would jeopardize all that has been set in motion."

"We will not initiate hostilities."

"Very well, Kosh. I have given you much to think on, and both you and the Shadow Triad have given me much to contemplate. We will talk again soon, you and I. And the Ancients will be there as well."

"Admiral Ramos, a question if I may?"

"Of course, Ms. Alexander."

"How are you able to block my scans?"

"Perhaps you should ask me something simpler, like why do humans breathe oxygen instead of carbon dioxide? Or why are our bodies carbon based and not silicon based? But to answer your question, I do not know. Perhaps it is a function of my Quickening, one that none of my kind have yet discovered because telepaths have not come into existence in my galaxy. Who knows. What I do know is that you can not scan me, and I believe you would be unable to scan any other Child of the Ancients or the Ancients themselves either."

"You look human enough to me. How is it that you are a Child of the Ancients?"

"In this place, the Vorlons manipulated the genetic material of hundreds of races to create you, did they not? They wanted to create telepaths to use as weapons against their mortal enemies? Well, long ago, the Ancients created us for a similar purpose. To act as guardians and guides for the younger races. But we faltered along the way; we became involved in a deadly game of conquest with only one winner as the eventual goal. It was said that the winner of the Game would have dominion over all humanity and that could either have been very bad or very good, depending on the winner. An eternity of damnation or an eternity of paradise.

"But our Father-Creator has shown us the error of our ways and we have once again taken up the mantle for which we were created. In this place, the Vorlons created telepaths. In our place, the Ancients created Immortals. That is to say, we who were created, can not die."

"Immortal guides and guardians? I see the wisdom of that decision. Who better to help mortal man from repeating the mistakes of the past but someone who's lived that past and who remembers the consequences of those previous errors.. The Ancients were wise, indeed."

"No, Ms. Alexander. And yes. Their goals may be altruistic now, but at the time of creation, they wanted something baser, more primitive. They wanted children. Simple, isn't it?"

Marius realized at that moment that somewhere during his conversation with Lyta Alexander, Kosh had slipped out of the room and that his three guards were now listening in rapt attention to his commentary.

"So much of what you have said makes more sense now, Mr. President. The Council was indeed wise in choosing you to lead us. The Immortal community was most fortunate indeed that you were selected in the lottery."

"I have asked you repeatedly not to call me that. It's been quite a long time since I have had anything at all to do with politics. Though my own experience makes modern politicians appear to be children playing a game, I really had no desire to repeat it, Reagan."

"So the Chronicles were true in that respect? You were a Senator in Rome?"

"More than a mere Senator, my dear Kyra. I was Pro Consul. Gaius Marius. But that was long ago, and I have no desire to relive those days."

"You were alive during the days of the Roman Empire? Just how old are you?"

"Our history, Ms. Alexander, is apparently similar to yours. According to your calendar and ours, the term AD refers to the date of the Death of Christ. Using that mark, I was born approximately six centuries earlier."

"To have seen so much history! I can not begin to imagine all that you have seen!"

"Immortality is both a blessing and a curse, Ms. Alexander. I wish it on no one."

----------------------------------------

A few hours later, Marius and Alison were strolling through the Zocalo, examining the booths of various merchants and the wide array of wares available therein. His two other guards were there as well, mixed in with the crowd, at a discreet distance. As Marius looked up from examining some trivial artifact, he was startled to notice a rather large reptilian alien patiently examining him.

"Yes?"

"Forgive my intrusion, Admiral Ramos. I am Citizen G'Kar of the Narn."

"Ah yes. The Narn Regime. I have read some rather interesting historical reports on your people, Citizen G'Kar. I saw many instances where your conflict with the Centauri reminded me of certain conflicts in Earth history. Of course, I could also draw many inferences between the Centauri and a civilization in my past, but that would be unfair to either of those two. But obviously you do not wish to discuss history with me, so how might I be of service, Citizen G'Kar?"

"I bear a formal request from my government. The Narn Regime wishes to enter formal negotiations for some of your technology, in particular, your shield technology."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. To grant you that tech, would be to upset the balance of power in this galaxy. It would give you an unfair advantage. Even with the best of intentions, it would not be right."

"I assure you Admiral, that the Narn could make a very lucrative offer."

"Perhaps. I shall have to discuss this with my government first. We will be in touch with you. That is all I can promise at this time."

"That is all we ask."

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_**Elsewhere**_

"Lorien."

"Who is it that calls my name?"

"It is I, Tok'Ra."

"He who is against Ra. It has been a long time my friend."

"What is the passage of time to us who are outside its influence, Lorien?"

"You have passed Beyond?"

"Not exactly. I have moved on to a non-corporeal form, true, but I have not yet joined our brothers. There is still much to do, Lorien."

"The Goa'uld?"

"We were betrayed. The Alliance has fallen apart. Only the Asgard still honor their promise to us."

"Betrayed?"

"My wife. She chose to blend with a Goa'uld symbiote. I thought it was of a like mind to my own. But it was not. She waited until my forces were ready to strike, then she launched an attack of her own and destroyed those forces. The Alliance tried to stem the tide of the Goa'uld expansion, and they have succeeded in some small degree, but not by much."

"I'm sorry."

"You could not have known. You chose to remain here. As I chose to remain there. While the others have left."

"But you have returned to this universe through the doorway?"

"Yes."

"I thought I felt a tremor in the continuum."

"Such as I hoped you would."

"But you did not come alone, did you?"

"No. Centuries after we left, we began an experiment. I stayed to oversee the fruits of that research."

"What experiments?"

"We learned nothing from the Progenitors. In the same way they played God by creating us and others like us in the multi-verse, we played God in our universe. We created life. Immortal life."

"Oh Tok'Ra. Tell me that your experiments were more fruitful than my own."

"They were, for a time. But like all good research, there were bad spots along the way. An influence outside the parameters of the experiment intervened. The results were centuries of combat between our various experiments. When things came to a head, I chose to intervene, to set them on their original path once again."

"What made you decide to intervene?"

"Ten thousand years ago, the Goa'uld came to our home world. They enslaved the native primitives."

"They dared enslave our Chosen race?"

"They dared. But our own forces helped primitive man. And primitive man cast the Goa'uld off the planet and sealed the Gateway. Ten thousand years later, the Stargate was reopened. And man began exploring his universe once again. They found it to be a place teeming with life not unlike their own. The opening of the Gate anew, brought my attention back to Earth. The inclusion of my son into that project, led to my intervention in the experiment."

"Your son? I did not know you had a son."

"He was the first to be created through our experiments. I took him as my son, and raised him as such. He was killed and buried under several tons of rock, when his mother, my wife, betrayed me. Buried for five thousand years before an earthquake unearthed him. He was quite insane at the time. It took another thousand years or so for him to regain some semblance of sanity. I can not begin to imagine how it must have been for him, beneath all that rock."

"That would not be a fate I would wish on anyone."

"True. Tell me Lorien, why did you choose to remain behind all those millennia ago?"

"I found it necessary. These younger races, they needed a guiding hand."

"Yes and now those younger races are attempting to guide even younger races. And doing a poor job of it."

"Yes. It was a simple difference in philosophy. Order versus chaos. I brought that up once, long ago, to them. I do believe they've taken this whole argument a bit far however."

"I'll say. Out of curiosity, did you have anything to do with that monstrous machine beneath the surface of Epsilon Three?"

"Perhaps a little. The race that created that machine; I meant for them to be a counter-balance to the Vorlons and the Shadows. Never interfering directly, mind you, but nudging certain events along. The Machine is multi-dimensional and multi-temporal. It exists to regulate the flow of time. It can manipulate time. It is what the Vorlon Kosh used to contact you."

"That's a dangerous thing, Lorien."

"True. But it was necessary. And it will be necessary again. Fortunately, the race that created the Machine passed beyond long ago. The Machine is in the hands of a Minbari, I believe."

"I won't even ask how that happened."

"Will you be traveling with the Shadows to Babylon 5?"

"No. My time to leave has not arrived as yet. But soon. I am waiting for the One."

"Must be someone special, to make you want to wait all these years?"

"He is. He is the One that will return balance to the universe."

"I think I know who you mean. There is a strength about him that reminds me of Cal'ad."

"He passed beyond?"

"Yes. He evolved into one like me. A hundred thousand years past. He was probably the greatest of our kind."

"He was. Cal'ad sacrificed much for our kind."

"Without his sacrifices, the Alliance would never have been. All that we are and were and will be, would be impossible were it not for Cal'ad. If anyone was truly deserving of evolution, it was Cal'ad; the first Ancient. Son of the Progenitors, and father to us all."

"The One who comes. He will sacrifice everything for his cause. And though many can lay claim to that, it will be especially true of him. And so I must await his arrival."

----------------------------------------

A few days passed, and life returned to some remote semblance of order. Marius had returned to the _Halsey_ to tackle the ever-increasing mound of paperwork on his desk. He had been in his office for a few hours when the intercom rang.

"Yes?"

"Sir. Captain Sheridan is on the comm."

"Patch it through."

"Admiral Ramos?"

"Captain Sheridan. How might I be of assistance?"

"I wondered, sir, if the invitation to tour the _Halsey_ is still open? I find myself with some spare time at the moment."

"Of course, Captain. Will it be just you for the tour?"

"No. I'd like to bring along Commander Ivanova, Dr. Franklin, and Chief Garibaldi."

"I see. Would it be asking too much Captain, if you could invite four others?"

"Which four did you have in mind?"

"Ambassador Delenn. Ambassador Mollari. Citizen G'Kar. And a representative from the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. If this is agreeable to you, then shall we say an hour from now?"

"I shall contact the others and see if they are available. But the rest of us will be over in an hour."

"Very well, Captain. I look forward to seeing you."

----------------------------------------

"Phillipson."

"Alex. Assemble your squad. Meet me on the hangar deck in forty-five minutes. We have some dignitaries coming over from the station and I want each of them assigned a guard."

"We'll be there."

Marius left his office and the paperwork behind to find Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill. He wanted them to be present when the station dignitaries came aboard. He was planning to ask Sheridan for a limited technology exchange. Carter had expressed an interest in obtaining the designs for the station and for the fusion reactors that powered the station while Jack had expressed interest in their fighters. But they also wanted the jump gate technology. The jump gates were similar in concept to the combat gates the Ancients had built so long ago, but instead of a controlled wormhole, these jump gates opened a portal into hyperspace. What limited scans and information they had pointed to the fact that hyperspace travel in this universe was slower, dramatically slower than wormhole travel. But the combat gates used a massive amount of naquadah in their construction and so new combat gate construction was barely possible with their existing stocks of the material. Perhaps a combination of the two technologies would enable them to link the wide areas of their home universe in a less expensive fashion.

If the combination of technologies could be done, then the rapid expansion of Earth's influence could be accomplished much easier. There again, this universe had other techs that they wanted. Techs that could be used to fight the Goa'uld and their Cylon allies. Perhaps the Vorlons and the Shadows could be convinced to a technology exchange? Marius doubted the feasibility of such an endeavor, but vowed to ask Tok'Ra for his guidance on that particular problem. Certainly the organic armor technology used by both the Vorlons and the Shadows could come in handy in their home universe. But the cloaking tech used by the Shadows was far in advance of anything the Goa'uld might have used. And for this reason, it could be beneficial to make a deal with a Devil. But he had a feeling that they would ask for the shielding tech in return, and that tech alone, would upset the balance of power in this universe.

----------------------------------------

An hour later, Marius found himself on the hangar deck with Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill at his side. Phillipson's honor guard stood by at attention, while the VIP's from the station came aboard.

"Honor guard! A-Ten-Shun!"

"Greetings Captain Sheridan. On behalf of myself and my crew, I bid you welcome to the AIS _Admiral Halsey_."

"Thank you for allowing us this visit, Admiral Ramos."

"The pleasure is ours, Captain Sheridan. If you would come with me, we'll get this tour underway."

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_**Earth Dome**_

_**Office of President Morgan Clark**_

_**Journey Day 16**_

In truth, he did not believe that one ship could have destroyed four of his top destroyers. No matter what allies that bastard Sheridan had found himself, he could not stand up to the might of Earth Force and their new found Shadow allies. Which was the point of this meeting he had in a few minutes, with their Ambassador. The President had long ago been briefed in on the fact that the man known only as Justin and the other crew members of the ill-fated Icarus expedition had been declared dead. The fact that the same man listed in IPX records as dead now stood in his office was a matter left to the imaginations of others.

"Justin, you have heard of our little setback at Babylon 5?"

"I have Mr. President."

"Do your forces have any information they may be willing to share on this new ally of Sheridan?"

"Not at this time, sir."

"So you do have information? But you are unwilling to share it with an ally?"

"Yes. We do have information on the ship that came to Sheridan's aid. Whether that ship is an ally to Sheridan remains to be seen. And what little information we possess will not be shared at this time. Our scientists are still examining the information."

"You are refusing a request from Earth?"

"I'm afraid that at this time we must. I will say, however, that at the present time, there is a sizeable fleet bound for Babylon 5 space. A sizeable Shadow fleet."

"Are their intentions to destroy or capture the ship?"

"Neither. If that is all, sir?"

"Go."

Justin left, but he left Clark with more questions than answers. Answers that he needed desperately.

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_**Centauri Prime**_

_**Throne Room**_

"Ah Mr. Morden. So good of you to come and visit with us."

"It is always a pleasure Emperor Cartagia, to visit a world such as yours. May I ask why I was summoned?"

"We are curious as to the nature of this one little ship that has caused the Earthers so much trouble at their station. Is it true that one ship destroyed eight of their Ships of the Line?"

"No, I do believe that was an exaggeration. The truth is that only four ships were destroyed, whilst the remaining four retreated."

"We thought as much. But do tell us about this shielding technology they possess. Is it true that they stopped a nuclear attack on their ship?"

"Yes. That much has been confirmed. The shields of that ship withstood ten direct impacts of weapons in the five megaton range."

"Marvelous! The Centauri simply must have that shielding technology! Do you think they would be amenable to trade?"

"That is always a possibility your Highness."

"Excellent! I shall order my military to seize that ship and to 'trade' for their technology with their lives!"

"That would not be wise, Highness."

"Not wise? Pray tell, why would it not be wise? It is, after all, what we want!"

"I am not a liberty to say Highness, other than at this moment, a battle fleet of our own is headed for Babylon 5. If your ships were to arrive before or after them, tensions might rise uncontrollably, Highness."

"Then we shall order those ships dispatched to Babylon 5 in support of your own, Mr. Morden. Leave us!"

"Your will, Excellency."

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On Earth, Clark had reached the same conclusion, and for perhaps the same reason as the Centauri Emperor. The shielding technology was too good to let it slip only into the hands of the Shadows. With such an advanced tech on their own ships, they would be unstoppable in the face of their allies and enemies. The orders were given. From Centauri space, a fleet of fifty ships, _Vorchan_ and _Primus_ class, departed Centauri space bound for Babylon 5. From Earth, a fleet of sixty ships, a mix of older _Hyperions_ and _Novas_ and the newer _Omegas_ all set out for Babylon 5.

One way or the other, the mystery ship at Babylon 5 would give up its secrets.

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_**AIS Halsey**_

_**Bridge **_

"Admiral's on Deck!"

"As you were. Now, my distinguished guests. This is the bridge of the _Halsey_. It is considered the primary or main bridge, but there are five redundant areas of the ship that can take control should the need arise. To the right and near the main screens are the science and navigation stations. To the left and near the main screens are the offensive and defensive weapons stations. In general terms, the offensive weapons of the _Halsey_ are her long range laser cannons and her intermediate range rail drivers, along side the intermediate and short range missile racks. In defensive terms, there are laser batteries, rail gun turrets, and interceptor missile racks. In the middle, and down near the view screens, are five stations; two for helm control, two for propulsion, and one for our shields. From this seat here, the current Watch Officer has an excellent view of the various stations. The chair has a pair of multi-function displays that can show a smaller view of what ever the Officer wishes to view. For example, if the WO wants to look at a science screen, he or she, merely has to activate it on this panel to get all the details.

"Behind and to the right along the rear wall are the engineering stations, where the duty officer from our Engineering section can maintain the ship's power systems and main reactor plants. Behind and to the left along the rear wall are the medical and judicial stations. In times of emergency, the medical officer co-ordinates with the engineering officer to dispatch damage control teams and medical rescue teams. The Judicial officer is there to give interpretation to the laws and regulations that we have pledged adherence to, in the event that a situation is not clear on some point. It also gives the WO a glimpse into the morale of the ship and her crew. As any officer in any military ever in history can state, 'Morale is a dangerous thing'."

"And how is the morale of your ship, Admiral?"

"I would venture to say that it is good, Ambassador Delenn, but it could do with shore leave, if that were possible."

"How large a crew do you have aboard the _Halsey_?"

"Approximately eight thousand four hundred crew."

"That is a very large number, Admiral Ramos. We could extend an invitation to you and your crew to visit the station for shore leave, but I'm afraid that all of you at once would severely tax the limits of Mr. Garibaldi and his security teams."

"I would not venture to ask for such a thing, Captain Sheridan, as that would leave no crew aboard the _Halsey_ for even routine tasks, but perhaps on a rotational schedule, something on the order of two thousand at a time? I would even task additional security teams to assist your station in this matter."

"The guns your troops carry, slug throwers, would damage the station, so I'm afraid they'd have to be unarmed."

"Actually, Mr. Garibaldi, you bring up a very good point. It is true that our ground troops use what you call slug throwers. But our security personnel carry Intars. These are similar in nature to your PPG weaponry in that they emit a small particle of energy as a projectile. However, your PPG weapons can kill whereas our Intar weaponry stuns only. We use them as training weapons as they have the same weight as a standard weapon. They even get lighter as the clip is expended! But as they are designed for training, and as killing a soldier in training is not a good thing, the Intar is only capable of a stun effect."

"Stun only? That would've been nice when we were fighting off that breaching pod a week ago. Bet they'd be good for the occasional riot on the station too."

"Oh, for riot control we have something nice. Here, we call this a shock grenade. The nice thing is that it doesn't explode in the conventional sense. What that means is that no fragments go flying out of it when it detonates. Instead, it emits a loud sound and a brilliant flash of light. The combination of the two stuns any individuals within fifty feet of the epicenter and afterwards, you can pick up the shock grenade and recharge it for the next use. Remember to wear ear plugs and cover your eyes when you use one or you will be as unconscious as your intended targets."

"How long is the knock out effect?"

"That depends on the strength of the individual, but generally it can last up to six hours or as little as an hour as is the case with Jaffa. But there again, Jaffa warriors have a symbiote to assist them in recovering from the stun effects."

"For riot control in an enclosed area like the station, those two items are nice. Cap, we need to get us some of those!"

"Indeed Captain Sheridan, if you are amenable to the limited shore leave numbers I have suggested, I will lend to the station four Shore Patrol teams, armed with Intars and a limited number of Shock grenades. When the SP teams return to the _Halsey_, the weapons will remain on the station for your usage. Consider it a gift between friends."

"I think that will work out quite nicely, Admiral."

"Now, let us proceed with the tour. Next on our stop is the Forge deck, where we manufacture all of the items this ship uses. Except for major repairs that need to be accomplished in space dock, every Strike Carrier is capable of repairing itself and the equipment within. That is not to say that the outside armor is self-repairing. That would not be a factual statement. When in combat, any repairs to the outer hull are next to impossible, unless those damaged sections are available from within where we can place a temporary patch. When not in battle, we can send out larger repair crews to fix any damaged portions of the ship using hull material manufactured here on the Forge deck. This deck also allows us to build replacement fighters and armaments for those fighters. In effect, each Strike Carrier can, as long as supplies hold, replenish the weapons it expends in combat."

"Which explains why you have such a large crew. I mean, all those engineers and such building stuff."

"Actually Commander Ivanova, the Forge deck is largely automated. Ah, Chief Petrocelli, if you would be so kind as to demonstrate for us?"

"Sure thing Admiral. If you folks will gather in a bit closer, you'll see things a bit better. This here is the interface for Forge number six. I key in what we need, uhm Admiral?"

"Let's make it something simple, Chief. How about an M11 pistol with a dozen Intar clips?"

"Sounds like an easy task for my baby here sir. So here we go. Menu selection: weapon, infantry. Menu selection: handgun, M11. Menu selection: ammunition, Intar, 12 magazines. Now if you folks will look through the window there, you'll see the robots move to the storage area to extract the raw metals, then they pour those into the Forge where the real action takes place. Look up at the monitors here, it's kind of hard to tell, but what you're seeing is the creation engine at work. I don't know all the fancy-shmancy words for it, but what happens in there is that a bunch of really, really tiny robots put the raw stuff together and what comes out on this end is one M11 Compact pistol of the Intar variety. And here you are sir. Pistol is ready, complete with two clips. The others will be just a minute."

"A creation engine?"

"One of the devices that we utilize to create what we need. We can not create something from nothing. We need the raw materials for a gun before we can produce a gun. Or the raw materials for a fighter before we can produce said fighter. But it does give industry a whole new meaning. As long as there are templates for the Forge to follow, it can create almost anything."

"Do the metals and such need to be refined?"

"No Captain. Such is the beauty of the Forge. Raw 'stuff' for lack of a better word, goes in and finished product comes out."

"Amazing. Simply amazing. With something like that we can cut our dependence on off-station suppliers for a large part of our needs. Would you be willing to trade this technology?"

"Yes we would. But first, let us continue the tour. I'm certain there are any number of other 'wonders' we may have here that you would be interested in. Thanks for the demonstration Chief Petrocelli. Chief Garibaldi, here's your first Intar. Play nice with it, now. Next stop, the medical bay."

For his part, Michael Garibaldi looked at the weapon in his hands while he walked with the group. He had seen the industrial sized robot arms moving raw metal into the white hot forge, but he could not see with movement on the tiny robots that produced this weapon. The gun felt real enough. He had one just like it in his quarters. One that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family, along with a fair collection of other law enforcement weapons and articles. But just now, they were entering the one place he really did not like; medical.

"For this part of the tour, I'm going to turn you over to the very capable hands of Doctor Dana K. Scully, Chief Medical officer aboard the _Halsey_."

"Thank you Admiral, and welcome to all of you. Now, as medical bays go, this may not be state of the art in your terms, but to us it is quite advanced. We have eight operating theaters, and a bed facility for two hundred wounded. There are also additional emergency facilities throughout the ship that can house additional wounded that do not require as much care as this primary facility can provide. In the event of a large medical emergency where the number of critically wounded is higher than we can safely accommodate, there are one hundred stasis tubes where we can place the more critical cases. The stasis tubes are used only when the most urgent cases can not be immediately treated. Additionally, I have on my staff five Tok'ra medics who, because of their unique physiology, can utilize the Healing Device to stabilize those with minor wounds or bone breaks. In the event of something more catastrophic, we utilize the sarcophagi located behind you. Yes, there is a significant resemblance to ancient Egyptian sarcophagi, however instead of these being grandiose coffins for the dead, these devices can completely heal a person, even bring them back from death. Unfortunately, prolonged usage of a sarcophagus leads to severe mental instability and for that reason alone we choose to use them only as a last resort."

"You can actually bring someone back from the dead?"

"Doctor Franklin, I presume? To answer your question, yes we can. Although it must be someone who has died very recently. Within ten minutes at the most, otherwise we face rather extreme brain damage that the sarcophagus would be unable to heal. I believe Dr. Jackson, of the First Contact team, has used the device on three occasions where he had been killed. Also Colonel O'Neill, if I am not mistaken."

"You ain't mistaken Doc. I hate those things. If a man is supposed to die, then he should just die. The worst thing that can happen to a soldier is to die in combat and then wake up in one of those things. Gives me the creeps just remembering it."

"All that aside, the procedure is quite safe if used sparingly. Yes? You have a question, Ambassador?"

"Yes Doctor I do. I notice that these sarcophagi are very ornate, almost like something we Centauri would make, with lots of pretty designs laid in gold, yet the rest of the ship seems very utilitarian. Even your stasis tubes are of a scientific level that is far in advance of your medical science from what I can see."

"Very observant Ambassador Mollari. The stasis tubes were a gift from the Asgard, one of the member races of the Alliance. The sarcophagi were a gift from the Goa'uld Lord Yu as a token towards a more peaceful relationship with the Alliance."

"Admiral, who are these other races you mention?"

"All in good time friends. Let us continue this tour first, then we shall adjourn to a conference room for refreshments and a short question and answer session. Dr. Franklin, if you so wish, you can remain here and exchange notes as it were, with Dr. Scully?"

"I'd like that, if that's alright with you Captain."

"Please. Anything that can help us out with our situation."

"Well then, if Dr. Scully would be so kind as to escort her guest to the main conference room on the main deck when she's done here, then we shall continue."

"I'll get him there. It gives me a chance to exchange notes with him as well."

"Good. Next stop, the training rooms."

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The tour continued at length for more than two standard hours until they at last came to the conference room to find Doctors Scully and Franklin exchanging notes on alien physiology in an excited manner. All of those assembled, from Sheridan and his command staff, to the Ambassadors and their aides, to the command staff and escorts of the _Halsey_ were a bit tired from walking so much. The chairs were comfortable respites from their long walking tour of the ship. Mess stewards came in and laid out coffee and tea service for those present in the room, along with a selection of sandwiches for those who felt the need for sustenance.

"Admiral Ramos, I am curious to know more about this Alliance you have mentioned on numerous occasions."

"Of course Captain. The Alliance of Independent Systems has, at its core, seven member systems or groups of systems: Kelowna, Colonial Mars, Immortal Luna, Humans (or the Tau'ri as we are known), the Tollan, the Asgard, and the Ancients. Four of those races reside in one system of planets; the Tau'ri, the Ancients, the Immortals, and the Colonials. Of the remaining three, Kelowna claims only one planet in its home system, while the Tollan can lay claim to one home world and six lesser colony worlds. Only the Asgard can lay claim to several hundred colony worlds in several hundred planetary systems. Of the AIS, only the Asgard and the Ancients were once a part of an older Alliance that served to protect the younger races from the Goa'uld.

"The Goa'uld are an old race. Well, that is, they can lay claim to hundreds of thousands of years of recorded history. The Goa'uld are a race of parasitic creatures that inhabit hosts, generally human. They found the human body easy to manipulate and easy to control. They forcibly join with their host and carry out atrocities that even the worst creature in history would never dare to imagine. The Goa'uld have been responsible for the wholesale slaughter of untold trillions. They believe themselves to be Gods and they force their followers to worship them as such."

"Gods? Great Maker, these Goa'uld must be mad to think of themselves as such!"

"Tell me, Ambassador Mollari. If one of these Goa'uld appeared to your citizens and proclaimed himself a God, how would they react?"

"He would be killed! The lunacy of the idea would drive my people mad with blood lust!"

"And if this so called God happened to revive after being killed, would your people stop to listen, perhaps?"

"Revived? Ah yes, the sarcophagi you showed us earlier?"

"Yes, Ambassador. The Goa'uld use humans as hosts because our bodies are easily repaired and can be made by a sarcophagus to stay very young in appearance. The first of these Gods the Tau'ri encountered in their travels was Ra, the King of the Gods. He appeared to them to be only twenty human years of age, but in actuality he was over ten thousand years of age. As was mentioned earlier in out tour, repeated usage of the sarcophagus leads to severe mental instability. Can you imagine that after ten thousand years of usage that the being known as Ra was not mentally impaired? But he was killed. And the Tau'ri have been at war with the Goa'uld ever since."

"And you are of the Tau'ri?"

"No Citizen G'Kar, I am not. I am an Immortal. Dr. Scully there is of the Tau'ri. Colonel Starbuck, the head of our training program that you met earlier, is a Colonial, and Tok'Ra, whom you all have seen, is an Ancient."

"I see no difference between you and the very lovely Dr. Scully or with Colonel Starbuck for that matter."

"The difference is not in our appearance, Captain Sheridan. The difference exists at a genetic level. The Colonials, the Tau'ri, and the Immortals all share the same genetic code, save for a few genetic sequences. For the Tau'ri and the Colonials, the differences are not genetic, but rather environmental, considering that the Colonials evolved in a far away part of the universe. That they are genetically identical tells me that the Universe often has a profound sense of humor.

"Immortals, on the other hand, are not a creation of the universe, but rather are a creation of the Ancients. They manipulated the genetic code of the Tau'ri such that one in every hundred thousand Tau'ri women had the potential to bear an Immortal offspring, but only if they had 'mated' with an Immortal male. When the Tau'ri were young and not so numerous, Immortal births were decades, even centuries apart. But now that they are numerous indeed, the number of Immortal births is rising. Any Tau'ri has the potential within their genetic code to become an Immortal or to give birth to an Immortal, but only an existing Immortal can tell who will become another of our kind. We can sense those destined to become such. Yes. Become, for a Tau'ri must die before the Immortality can come to the surface. Otherwise, the Tau'ri will continue to age as they normally would and eventually die of natural causes. The youngest Immortal I have ever heard of was twelve human years when he crossed over. And he appeared to be only twelve at the time of his death though he was actually over nine hundred years of age.

"Imagine. Living forever and not aging. Some would think it a wondrous thing. And it can be. As Immortals we get to see the passing of history, even live it to some extent. But we can't have children. And all those mortals that we love will die eventually. You get to live forever, but everyone around you dies. Immortality is both a blessing and a curse."

"You mentioned others in your alliance."

"Yes, Dr. Franklin, three other races. The Kelownans and the Tollan are human, save for some minor genetic and environmental differences. The Asgard are not. In fact, the Vree that you are familiar with are probably the closest analogy to the Asgard. Small in stature, gray skinned, and large solid black eyes. They are among the oldest races we have encountered in our travels. They are also a very benevolent race, and have for years acted to protect certain species in the universe. The Tau'ri are among those protected species."

"Admiral, you mentioned earlier an exchange of technologies?"

"Thank you G'Kar for bringing us back on point. Yes I did mention that. This is what I propose to each of you. Ambassadors, go back to your governments and share with them all that you have seen. Explain to them that we are open to the possibility of negotiations for certain of our technologies. Ask them what they would be willing to exchange for those items. Captain Sheridan, the same also applies to you, though I don't believe you will be speaking with your government on Earth. So look at what you have and what you would be willing to trade. I'm sure that this request of ours will take some time on the parts of your governments, so as soon as you are ready, leave a message on your BabCom system for me and I will detail our diplomatic section to attend those details. Now, friends, I will ask the Honor Guard to escort you back to the hangar bay and I will bid you good day."

It was true that the station had broken away from the Earth Government. Such was the reason that those eight destroyers had attempted to wrest control of the station from Sheridan. But not all of the Earthers had left the station. Before President Clark had declared martial law on Earth and her colonies, he had created a number of new Ministries, among them the Ministry for Peace. A branch of the agency, Nightwatch, had numerous members still aboard the station and they were actively planning for widespread chaos. In truth, they were little better than misguided terrorists.

----------------------------------------

The next day, the first two thousand crew of the _Halsey_ began arriving on the station for a forty-eight hour liberty pass. Accompanying them were four squads of Shore Patrol, to assist the station with security duties. The SP squads were taking eight-on and eight-off shifts in pairs, so that they too would get some shore leave. It was a certain thing that whatever currency units each crewmember had on their person would not be accepted by the station vendors, as the exchange rates for such old and antiquated currency would not be in the best interest of the _Halsey_ crews. So Pierson suggested that they take some gold out of stores and create a generic fleet currency unit that all crew could withdraw from their personal accounts.

As per Marius' word, all of the SP personnel were armed with Intar stun weapons, and their commanding officers and unit sergeants additionally had been issued three Shock grenades apiece. Marius and his protective detail, along with Alex and Methos also went to the station with the first wave of liberty crews.

They were just leaving the arrivals area of the station when the shots rang out. What followed was sheer bedlam and chaos as humans and aliens alike scattered for cover. Alex and Methos both pulled Intar pistols from their belts, while Marius' protective detail took up guard positions with their staffs. More shots were heard and this time, the shots were coming in their direction. Alex dropped to the ground; severe plasma burns stitched across his chest. Methos sighted in their attacker and let fly with a dozen shots from his Intar while Alison moved up to flank their attacker. With a shocked cry of pain, Methos fell writhing to the ground. Marius nudged Reagan to assist Alison while he and Kyra dove for cover behind some furniture in the embarkation area.

A few more shots were heard and then a cry of pain as their attacker found himself face to face with the blade in Alison's staff. Reagan had cornered a second attacker that had apparently planned to back up the first, before he could fire. With their own blades drawn, Kyra and Marius moved up to confront their attackers. After a moment, station security and _Halsey_'s SPs moved in to take custody of the two would be assassins. Marius heard someone behind him bellow for a med team and he moved to quash that.

"That won't be necessary Chief."

"You've got two wounded! One's bleeding badly and the other probably won't ever have kids again!"

"It is not necessary Chief. But if you insist, then I will take them to your Med Lab. Kyra, Reagan. Stay with the prisoners. Make sure no harm comes to them."

"As you will, Mr. President."

As Chief Garibaldi looked on, the two women in question sheathed their very nasty looking swords into their staves, and proceeded to follow his security team as they moved the prisoners to a holding cell. By the time he had turned back to the Admiral and his XO, their swords had also been sheathed.

"Just wooden staffs, eh?"

"They are now. Besides, Chief, with your plasma based weaponry, do you really think a sword would make much difference? Let alone a wooden staff?"

"That's besides the point. Why did she call you 'Mr. President'?"

"A slip of the tongue, nothing more. Now then, I believe you were insistent that we get these two to med lab?"

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_**Security Control**_

_**Office of Chief Garibaldi**_

"Sorry John, but all they're willing to give is a name. No other identification. Zack made them to be Nightwatch. But beyond that, nothing."

"Damn it, Michael! I won't have Nightwatch or any other rogue Earth group attacking one of our guests!"

"My hands are tied, Captain. I can't even get them scanned without violating their rights!"

Marius had left Alex and Methos in Med Lab recovering from their bout of plasma fire and had walked into Security Control, catching the last sentence uttered by Chief Garibaldi.

"Perhaps, you can not violate their rights, Chief. But the attack was made on my person, and two of my crew are wounded, though they should be up and around in perhaps ten minutes, probably less. And suffice to say, Chief, I would not want to be in their shoes when Captain Pierson gets back on his feet. Those two in there managed to piss off the eldest of my kind, and that is most definitely not a good thing."

"The two that were wounded are Immortals? Like you?"

"Yes Chief. Like me. In terms of age, I'm a five year old compared to Pierson. After all, what is twenty-six hundred years compared to ten thousand."

"Ten thousand?"

"Yes. Gives a whole new meaning to the term 'senior citizen' does it not?"

"And your other wounded Immortal? How old is he?"

"Between twenty-three and twenty-four hundred years. More than that, I can't say without giving away more than he would like."

"You may as well tell them, Mr. President."

"Alex. It is not my place to tell them what you wish to remain secret."

"Wait a minute. You said somewhere between twenty-three and twenty-four hundred years, right?"

"He did, Captain."

"And you came from 2003 in your calendar, right?"

"Correct again, Captain."

"So, adjusting for the difference in calendars, that would put 'Alex' here some time around the mid 350's BC. I knew you looked familiar!"

"By Jove, I think he's got it, Marius!"

"It would seem so, Alex. Chief Garibaldi, you look confused, but your Captain has deduced correctly. Lieutenant Alex Phillipson is indeed Alexander, son of Philip, of Macedonia."

"Michael, I think I need to sit down."

"Captain, I think someone needs to tell me who he is. Sorry, Admiral, but I've never been much on ancient history."

"Michael. He's the Great. Alexander the Great."

"I….think I need to sit down now."

"And we would appreciate it if you would not go around spreading his true identity? Are we in agreement Captain?"

"Yes. Admiral. We are. I'd ask for your autograph, but I don't think anyone would ever believe me."

"Hehehe. Probably not. Suffice to say that rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated."

"So it would seem. But back to the matter at hand, Chief. You say you can not scan the prisoners. I take it you mean a telepathic scan?"

"Correct. Telepathic scans without their consent are a violation of Earth and station laws."

"I see. What about a polygraph? Are the results admissible?"

"No. Polygraphs were proven unreliable back in the early 21st century."

"Hmm. Well, as they stand now, do you have enough to convict them of a crime?"

"Attempted murder. Plenty of witnesses for that. They'll get deported back to Earth."

"Well then, Chief. It seems we have nothing to lose and everything to gain by administering a polygraph."

"I just told you, a polygraph is unreliable. Lie detector tests are easy to beat."

"True. For the most part. Alex, contact the ship and ask the Duty Officer to have one of the Tok'ra bring over the Zatarc tester and a pair of memory recall devices. Also ask the DO to have Cassandra report to me as soon as possible."

"You got it, Mr. President!"

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"Zatarc tester? And that's the second person that's called you 'Mr. President'! What gives?"

"Chief. Captain Sheridan. Currently I am serving as Admiral aboard the _Halsey_. That was meant only for the duration of trials for the _Halsey_. My real job, if you could call it that, is as President of the Immortal Council. Chosen by a lottery for a term of one century. Not a job I wanted, but one I am serving in to the best of my abilities. As to the Zatarc tester, well, that is our version of a polygraph. It makes it impossible to be deceitful because the machine recognizes the deceit. It causes some pain to the deceiver, but more to the point, the information is clearly displayed on a screen. Also, the memory recall device can be plugged into the Zatarc tester, and into a holographic display, so we can see the person's memories and judge them for ourselves."

"It's probably still not usable in any court, Captain."

"Probably not, Chief, but it may serve to tell us who was involved with this plot."

"And, more to the point, it will tell us if I was the intended victim."

"He has a point. If he was not the intended victim, then there may be other assassins on this station who will try again. Tell me, Captain Sheridan. Who else was in the embarkation area when we arrived?"

Sheridan started to speak, but the thought that he was speaking to a ten thousand year old man went through his head at that moment, making speech impractical.

"Captain Sheridan?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that after what Admiral Ramos just told me, it seems strange to be speaking with someone who has seen so much history."

"I see. And did the Admiral fill you in on his history? Considering he filled you in on mine, I would think that would be fair."

"No. He said he's an Immortal, but not anything of his history."

"Then Captain, allow me to properly introduce you to Gaius Marius the Younger, Pro Consul to Rome, and President of the Immortal Council."

"Uhm. I think I need a drink."

"You left out something Adam. You forgot the Commander and General bit."

"Quite right. Gaius Marius the Younger, Proconsul of Rome. Commander of the Armies of the West, and General of the Prima Legions."

"Make that a bottle."

"Of course, Adam left out the fact that he was the Memoriae to Caesar, and that he spent about a thousand years or so riding around with a band of ruffians calling themselves the Four Horsemen."

"Uhm. Forget the bottle, just leave me the keg."

It was all that he could say really. Here were two men in front of him that had been alive when Rome was the greatest power on Earth. Such history! To be able to have all the events of the past as they unfolded! It was something that both he and Garibaldi were having a difficult time grasping.

"Captain, you may continue to address me as Admiral in public, but you may also call me Marius, as that is the name I am most comfortable with."

"There are so many things I would like to ask you."

"Captain, please remember that your Earth and my Earth are in different universes. There may be a significant amount of similarities, but I suspect there are also a significant amount of differences."

"Yes. Of course. You're quite right about that. The history I'm familiar with has us making first contact around 2151, not during the time of the Egyptian Empire. We also have no knowledge of this, what did you call it? Uhm…wormhole travel."

"Where we are from, first contact was announced by the President of the United States, John P. Ryan, early in 2003. Though the truth of that is that first contact happened sometime between 9000 and 8000 BC, when the Goa'uld came to Earth. But the gate they came through was sealed for millennia, and it was not until 1995 that we managed to re-open the Stargate and began traveling the universe. It wasn't until five years later that we managed to build our own spacecraft and began traveling the universe by ship."

"The truth of the matter is Captain Sheridan, that you recognized the word Rome. That tells me that we have at least that in common. First Contact differs, but I would venture to say that other pivotal events are the same. Your Earth seems to be as prone to violence as our own. But here you had the Vorlons to influence you. We had the Ancients to influence us."

"Well said Adam."

"Perhaps with a more detailed examination of your history, we could see just how similar we are."

"Mr. Garibaldi can arrange for access to our historical records, if you like."

"That may be a good idea, Adam. It may help us in the upcoming negotiations."

It was while Garibaldi was attempting to access the B5 historical archives that he noticed the computer was acting strangely. With a heavy sigh and shudder he looked up to Sheridan with confusion in his eyes. It was at that precise moment that Alex and Cassandra walked in.

"Captain, looks like we have a problem."

"What prob… Uhm, Elizabeth?"

"I'm sorry? My name is Cassandra. You sent for me Marius?"

"You look exactly like Elizabeth. The resemblance is uncanny."

"Who is Elizabeth?" Asked by Cassandra, but in truth, the question was on everyone's mind.

"Someone I knew, once. Long ago. As far as I know she's aboard the _Acheron_."

"I see. If my presence disturbs you, then perhaps I should leave?"

"No. You look like her, but you aren't her."

Marius pulled Cassandra aside and explained the situation to her regarding the attempted assassination. She responded in the affirmative regarding his request to use the Voice on the prisoners in custody. Meanwhile, Garibaldi explained the computer problem to Sheridan. Both agreed to make that their top priority and to leave an observer with Marius and Cassandra. Garibaldi placed a BabCom call to Lyta Alexander. D'fir arrived with two SPs carrying the Zatarc machine. He would remain behind to run the tests. Armed guards, under Garibaldi's watchful eyes walked in and attached two small metal disks to the temple of each man, then walked away. Both men were still handcuffed, but were seated in chairs. Ten minutes later, Cassandra entered the room where the prisoner was located while Marius, Lyta, and Garibaldi watched over a monitor.

"Hello Mr. Boggs. My name is Cassandra. You must tell me all that you know."

Cassandra's Voice was something that resonated deep within the man she was speaking to. Though he had been trained to resist telepathic interrogation, this was an interrogation of a different sort. The subtle intonations of Cassandra's voice made him extremely compliant. Outside the room, Lyta watched via the monitors. She could detect no overt telepathic means by which Cassandra used her voice. She used her Vorlon enhanced abilities, but could detect no telepathic transmissions emanating from Cassandra. It left her with many questions for Marius. D'fir watched the readings on the tester and saw that for the moment, the man was unwilling or unable to lie.

"Tell me why you chose to target Admiral Ramos for assassination."

"Orders. I was ordered to by the Ministry of Peace and Justice, as they were so ordered by President Clark for the humiliating defeat of eight Earth Force Destroyers sent to recapture Babylon 5."

"This Ministry of Peace and Justice. Tell me more about them."

"The arm of the Ministry on the station is Nightwatch. They are charged with slowing and halting the influence of aliens on the people of Earth."

"Why is this influence a bad thing?"

"Earth must be purified. Earth belongs to Earthers. The Universe shall be ours and no other race shall have rule over us."

"Was Admiral Ramos you're only target?"

"No. He was a target of opportunity."

"Who was the primary target?"

"Delenn of Minbar. President Clark ordered her termination be carried out with extreme prejudice."

"Very good, Mr. Boggs. Did you act alone?"

"No. From the membership rolls of Nightwatch, I was able to recruit a sniper aboard the station. He had served Earth Force well during the Earth-Minbari war."

"How many members of Nightwatch are aboard the station?"

"I know of only fifty."

"How is the Nightwatch organized? What is your hierarchy?"

"Nightwatch is organized in public as a communal group. In private, the groups are called cells. Each cell leader is responsible for the recruitment of members for his cell. There are fifty cell leaders aboard Babylon 5."

"Are these fifty cell leaders the same fifty people you referred to early as members of Nightwatch?"

As he spoke the words, images flashed on a nearby screen of the cell leaders in question. Among the images were the official Earth representative from the Ministry of Peace. It had been he who had given the order to assassinate Delenn of Minbar.

"Yes."

"Very good, Mr. Boggs. I will leave you now. You have been very helpful."

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"Marius. He was very forthcoming."

"He was, wasn't he? Captain, you saw that she used no overt method to get the information from him. No drugs were used. Is the information obtained useful?"

"In a court, maybe. But we can use it to identify the Nightwatch members and round them up."

"All in all, a productive day, yes? Looks like we have managed to obtain the information that was needed. Alex, Adam, you're on your own for the rest of the liberty pass. You too, Cassandra. I think that I shall retire to my quarters aboard the station for a bit of rest before seeing more of your station, Captain."

"Very well. I will contact you as soon as we have our negotiations team ready."

"Excellent."

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When Marius entered his quarters, he found one message waiting for him on the BabCom unit. A short one from Major Mulder. He read over the message and opened a channel to Major Mulder.

"Mulder. Ah, Marius. I heard there was a problem on the station. You seem to be ok?"

"I'm fine Mulder. As to your question on the technology trade guidelines? I think if we start with…"

And Marius continued at length for some minutes before closing the channel. Now that Mulder had his marching orders, he would get with his carefully chosen team to plan out their strategy for getting, as Marius had put it, 'the most bang for their limited buck'. Shortly after closing the channel, his door chimed and he bade the person at the door enter.

"Ms. Alexander! How pleasant to see you again. And so soon! How might I be of service?"

"While I was observing Cassandra, I used every method open to me to scan her telepathically, yet she never noticed I was doing this. You said all of your kind could not be scanned?"

"Were you able to see into her mind?"

"No. But she didn't detect my scans?"

"Odds are she did not. It is my understanding from her that using the Voice takes a lot out of her. As to how the Voice works, only she knows. As far as I know, she is the only one of our kind that possess that particular ability."

"I see. I was wondering, if perhaps you might join me for lunch? Or dinner?"

"Dinner would be nice. So would lunch for that matter. But if I had to choose then I would say dinner."

"Dinner it is. I'll pick you up here at say, nineteen hundred?"

"Excellent! I will await you at that time."

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_**Earth Prime**_

It had been a month since the _Halsey_ had disappeared at the onset of her space trials. A month in which other battlecruisers had been dispatched to aid the _Moscow_ and the _Houston_ in their fruitless search. At the end of that month, the _Halsey_ was listed in the rolls simply as 'Lost, with All Hands'. As a replacement for the lost _Halsey_, the Immortal shipyards were planning to build another Strike Carrier.

The AIS _Kuznetsov_ had been completed and was taking on supplies and personnel. The _Nelson_ was undergoing final fittings, and the keels had been laid on the two remaining strike carriers; the _Spruance_ and the _Varyag_.

The Immortal Design Bureau, after much debate, drew up plans for a battleship class vessel that would bristle with guns and have a small hangar that would be home to five shuttles. The shuttles would be of the same _Bulldog_ class used on the Strike Carriers, but would be fixed for Search and Rescue. As a compromise to one adamant designer, the SAR _Bulldog_s would be equipped with limited defensive armament to assist in their primary mission. As Marius had envisioned the battleship, so the IDB had laid out the plans. Four large caliber guns; two for and two aft, multiple launchers for missiles and several dozen anti-fighter laser batteries.

Over Mars, the Colonial Forge ships had churned out several hundred Viper class fighters and they were busily producing sections for three more new Battlestars. Because of the new Alliance, ships from various members' worlds were beginning to appear in the Sol system, bringing their warriors to a central location so that the new fleets could be put together. Leaders of the various fleets had yet to be assigned, but the various races with their dissimilar methodology were already beginning to work together, after a fashion.

On Earth, Senator Kinsey was putting together a new Consortium. This one would not work with the Grays like its predecessor had, a fact that he had always found disgusting to his nature, but would in fact work to close Earth off; to isolate it from alien influence. The Governor of his state had known that Kinsey had not been in the House when it was attacked and so he had not replaced him. He had appointed another man as the replacement for the other lost senator, but it was a man of Kinsey's choice. He was moving behind the scenes and would shortly announce his bid for the Presidency. Before he'd had only one goal. To stop the Stargate program at all costs, or at the very least to have it moved to his control. Now he had another goal. He wanted the Presidency and he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

He had searched and cajoled. He had bribed and blackmailed. So many petty bureaucrats just trying to protect their own fiefdoms within the governmental entity that is the United States of America! So many that he easily found a high ranking military officer that was able to give him what he wanted just to protect his pet project's budget for the coming year; a transcript of the Consortium Triad. Oddly, it did not include the sentencing phase of that particular miscarriage of justice, but he felt sure that they had been put to death. He ignored the fact that Tollana had no death penalty. With the old guard out of the way, he called upon certain individuals in the now defunct NID to serve on his new Consortium. He searched in vain for Alex Krycek, to determine why he had not carried out his orders regarding the termination of this so-called Immortal president, but he was unable to locate him. He had a final notification that Krycek had departed via the Kennedy space port bound for Luna, but there was no record of his arrival there. So odd, but it did not matter.

But he was pleased to learn that the AIS _Halsey_ had been lost with all hands! In one fell swoop, he was rid of not only the Immortal President, but also of that meddling do-gooder team known as SG-1. Some days, it felt truly good to be alive. Today, with the news of the _Halsey_, was that day.

And tomorrow, with the release to the media of his bid for the Presidency of the United States, would definitely be a most excellent day!

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_**Babylon 5**_

_**Journey Day 18**_

Marius had a pleasant evening. He had left the vast piles of never ending paperwork behind on the _Halsey_. For the first time in a truly long time, he felt grateful to the Gods that had created him. It was a good time to be alive. He began to think on his long life. Had he not become an Immortal so long ago, his life would have ended on a forgotten battlefield. But he had transitioned to Immortality. It was a state of life, a phase, that he had more often cursed than found to be a blessing. His father, or the man he thought of as his father, had been a great man in Rome. The truth of the matter was that Marius had been born long before his 'father' rose to power in Rome. Five hundred years old by the time he encountered the elder Marius.

He had come to Marius' estate as a slave, and through his hard work and his gift of learning and understanding, had made an impression on the mortal Marius. So much so, that the mortal man elevated him from slave to adopted son, a practice nearly unheard of in that period of history. But the Elder Marius saw something in the young man that stood before him that no other had seen; a gift for strategy. It was something that the mortal Marius used often. Gaius Marius had adopted the young-ish looking Immortal when he was but 28, and serving as a quaestor in Rome. When the elder Marius was appointed to the praetorship of distant Spain, the younger Marius followed him. Those were heady times, working with Marius and later with Sulla. He managed to convince Marius of the importance of using the common Roman man in her legions, making an army out of the people instead of the rich. It proved a worthy suggestion as it helped to reform Rome's armies.

Later in his life, the elder Marius rose to Proconsul, as would his adopted son, Marius the Younger. In the fullness of time, Marius the Immortal rose to Consul first, then Proconsul, only to be betrayed by Caesar, his 'cousin' and his 'fathers' nephew. For a time, he settled into an estate in Spain, before moving on to Europe and much later, the Americas. So much history he had seen, though as a part of it, he didn't recognize the events for what they were until much later. Had he not been what he was, he doubtless would have died unknown and alone, as he did not take his first wife until after he had left Rome.

Now, here he was, in another universe, exploring all that life had to offer him. Such irony. Take the meal a short while ago for instance. Would he ever have imagined such pleasant company? A beautiful woman with a sharp mind and an even sharper wit. Compared to the man he was so many centuries ago, Marius had grown and evolved. But enough of the retrospection. For now he had more serious concerns on his mind. He did not know if the passage of time in this universe was equivalent to the universe he hailed from. He was concerned over events at home. The Cylons were a serious threat on their own. Anubis was a serious threat on his own. Combined, the two were a deadly threat to the peace of his home universe. At the moment, they were evenly matched in terms of ship to ship firepower. The advantage, however, fell to the Cylon-Anubis alliance as they could call up more ships to battle than the combined might of Earth, Mars, and Luna. Perhaps Tok'Ra had an ulterior motive for allowing these cross-dimensional jaunts? For the sake of so many back home, Marius prayed that he did.

A week passed uneventfully on the station. Most of the crew had by now taken their turn at shore leave, and a firm schedule had been decided upon by all parties for the expected technology negotiations. But first, there would be one brief meeting with all parties where the _Halsey_ negotiating team would show off their technologies. The team had argued and debated long and hard over which technologies they could trade that would not upset the delicate balance in this universe. But whether they chose tech meant for war or peace, the tech could be abused. They had no real control over the eventual end use of a particular item. So they chose items that would be more difficult to turn into weapons. At the very least, very serious thought would be required before turning any of these items into weapons of war.

Marius and Methos were in the Zen Garden aboard the station discussing this very issue when the Ranger Marcus appeared in their midst, with a man who carried a sword that both recognized from their past.

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Arthur of Camelot."

Methos and Marius both looked at the man more closely. Methos had known the man history called Arthur. He had known him late in Arthur's life, shortly before the good King passed on. Marius had known him when the King was young and still building his empire. Neither man recognized him as their King, but both could not mistake his sword, Excalibur. And both fell prostrate to the ground, swords drawn, but held in supplication.

"My Liege! My sword and my body are at your service!"

"Arise, kind sirs. I see no need for your swords or your bodies at this time, though the gesture is appreciated."

"Of course, sire. It has been a great many centuries since Camelot was in power. That you have returned now is a fortuitous sign!"

"Tell me thy names, that I might properly know thee?"

"My King, I am Adam, but thou knew me as Gawain."

"And I, my Liege, am Marco, but thou knew me as Geraint."

"My two friends! Geraint, tell me that thy armor is not as rusty as it once was?"

"I've no call to wear that armor in many centuries, Sire."

While the man known as Arthur and Methos spoke, Marcus pulled Marius aside and spoke quietly with him.

"I had hoped that you two would not go on like that. I know that you are, shall we say, 'long lived' but I had hoped that you would not humor him so."

"Perhaps he is who he says he is. Though he does not appear to be the man in my memories of Arthur, his sword is unmistakably Excalibur. And who is to say he isn't Arthur?"

"But he isn't. He's listed in Earth Force records as David McIntyre. The DNA is a dead on match for him. He's a survivor of the Line."

"And so you believe he's had a bit of a break from reality? But then again, this is the time of a supposed great change in your universe. Perhaps he isn't who he claims to be, but then again, am I who I say I am?"

"Your argument is fair. I will take him from here. Perhaps there is someone on the station who can help him see the light?"

"The man that history calls Arthur. Well, I knew that man when he was young and when his kingdom was young. But there is no resemblance to this man here."

"And I knew him when he was old and his kingdom was old and dying. Yet there is no resemblance. He may not be Arthur, but if that is who he believes himself to be, who am I to judge? Marcus, he may not be Arthur. Hell, he may not be David McIntyre anymore either. Let him be Arthur until he decides who he is. If it makes life easier for him, then so be it."

"Well said, Adam. Let us continue our discussion. I am sure that Arthur is in good hands with Ranger Cole."

After their discussions had come to a close they had both agreed on a course of action. Methos went to see the Ambassador from Minbar with a request and an hour later, the battlecruiser AIS _Los Angeles_ departed orbit bound for Minbar at high speed. They had decided that a practical demonstration of their technology would benefit all parties in the upcoming meeting.

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_**Journey Day 27**_

The next day the meeting began at nine in the morning. Sheridan and Ivanova were there representing Babylon 5, along with Delenn and Lennan of Minbar. Lennan was the captain of the a Minbari cruiser that had arrived a few days previously and Delenn had asked him to attend this opening meeting as it promised to show off some items that would be of interest to the warrior caste. Londo Mollari, and his aide Vir, were there to represent the interests of the Centauri. Citizen G'Kar was present on behalf of the Narn. There were also various representatives of the League of Non-Aligned worlds present. Just when Sheridan was about to call the meeting to order, two more unexpected participants walked in; Kosh of the Vorlons and Mr. Morden on behalf of the Shadow Alliance.

"Mr. Morden, I do not believe you were invited to participate in this meeting?"

"Captain Sheridan. I requested his presence. The Shadow Alliance would be interested in some of the technologies we have to offer, and we, in turn, are interested in some of theirs. If there are no objections to his presence, then I request he be allowed to stay and listen."

"Are you sure of this Admiral Ramos?"

"It is a wise idea to see what we have to offer is it not?"

"It is. Then let us proceed. Admiral Ramos, you have the floor."

"Thank you Captain. Before we begin in earnest with the show and tell aspect of this presentation, I feel the need to explain a few things. First off is the fact that until fairly recently, our species has been traveling the universe via the Stargate, or the Chaapa'ai as it is known in some languages. The Stargate is a device that is composed of two concentric rings, one within another. An outer ring with nine lockable positions and an inner ring where there are thirty-nine position indicators. As all of you may be aware, to travel to any point in space, you will need seven position indicators. Six to describe a destination and one to describe a point of origin.

"The Stargate itself is made of a mineral we call Naquadah, which is a quartz-like element capable of controlling vast amounts of energy. When an energy source is directed to the Stargate, and when seven of the nine chevrons are locked describing a path to a destination, the Naquadah takes the stored energy and uses it to create a stable wormhole between itself and another Stargate at the destination. In order to travel anywhere, at least two operational gates must be used, otherwise the formation of the wormhole is impossible. To illustrate this point, and with the assistance of Delenn of Minbar, one of our ships, the AIS _Los Angeles_ was dispatched to Minbar yesterday. A gate does not need to be on the surface of a target world; it need only be in orbit. We have plotted the course to Minbar using our positioning system and have a similar Gate equipped ship in orbit near Epsilon Three. Let us turn now to the monitors aboard the AIS _Kiev_."

All eyes in the room turned to a bank of monitors that had been placed along the far wall. They watched as a technician in the screen entered a series of co-ordinates, represented by strange looking symbols, into a computer keyboard. They watched, mesmerized, as the ring within a ring spun one way then another as the locks engaged the various positions indicators. Then, when all seven locks had been engaged, there was a rush of a liquid-like substance that formed a sideways whirlpool emanating from the ring device. When the whirlpool had subsided, the liquid collapsed onto itself forming an undulating pool of shining 'water'. The technician informed the Admiral that the wormhole had been established.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you see on the monitors is a stable wormhole that now exists between the _Kiev_ and the _Los Angeles_. Two-way communication is possible via the Gate system, however, travel is only one way at a time. That is, because the _Kiev_ 'dialed' the _Los Angeles_, a crew can be sent to the _Los Angeles_ from the _Kiev_, but the reverse of that will not be true unless the _Los Angeles_ 'dials' the _Kiev_. Unless I am mistaken, I believe the travel time via ship to Minbar from this location is three days? Am I correct, Ambassador Delenn?"

"You are correct, Admiral Ramos."

Admiral Ramos uttered a few words into the radio near him, and on the screen, those present in the room watched as five members of the crew of the _Kiev_ walked into the shimmering pool of water. Shortly thereafter, the gate shut down, only to re-start as the _Los Angeles_ began its dialing procedure.

"What you have just witnessed is the near instantaneous travel of five crewmen to the _Los Angeles_. I say near instantaneous as it takes a few seconds to cross the vast distance between here and Minbar. Now, the _Los Angeles_ is dialing into the _Kiev_, where a return crew of five will make the journey back here."

Sure enough, a new whirlpool had briefly formed on the screen before returning to its placid state. Shortly afterwards, five Minbari Rangers stepped through the gate to the _Kiev_.

"Some of you might have said that all of this was an elaborate trick, that the five men who left earlier had not in fact, gone anywhere. So it was decided that five men would go and that five Minbari Rangers would return, to show the capability of this system. Now we will show a different outcome."

On the screens, the Gate shut down, only to start turning again as a new incoming wormhole was being established. But instead of a placid shimmering pool of water, a metal shield irised into place over the pool, followed by several very audible thumps and the shutdown of the gate.

"What you just witnessed was one of the safety features we have built into the Gate. Whenever we travel through the gate system, we carry with us a device that sends a particular code to the receiving gate that indicates whether we are friend or not. If no signal is received after the formation of the wormhole, then the iris closes over the surface of the Gate. It leaves no room for an object to re-integrate into its normal form, and what happens is the 'thumping' noise you heard. This is how we prevent unauthorized usage of our gate system, and how we prevent an attack from coming through the gates to our home world. Now, please understand one very important item. Because of the co-ordinate system in use, and its inherent limitations, only one gate can be placed per planet. To overcome this limiting factor, we ship all cargo to one gate on a nearby world, while all passengers come through the main gate on our world."

So the last statement was a bit of a white lie. Odds were the inhabitants of this universe would never know the truth of that statement, or lack thereof.

"The incoming cargo is then shipped via shuttle to its final destination. As I stated earlier, it was until fairly recently that we utilized the gate system exclusively. Only within the last few years have we begun to build starships, and that is primarily because not all habitable worlds in our home galaxy have Stargates.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is but one of the possible uses of naquadah. Another usage is a generator. I am aware that most of your races utilize fusion or some form of it to produce power. However, as it the case with this station, the fusion reactors are generally rather large. This small box in front of me, measures one cubic meter. Yet, when combined with five others of the same size, it can provide all of the power this station would require. The _Halsey_ uses a slight larger form of this generator, measuring five cubic meters and set in redundant banks of eight, to provide power for the ship. These are but two of the technologies that we offer for trade. When you leave the chamber a short while from now, a series of papers will be handed out itemizing what we would like to trade for. Now, our next demonstration may shock some of you, but please bear with me."

Just as Admiral Ramos had finished his statement, the doors to the Conference room opened a pair of coffin-like devices were brought in into the room. One had a bubble of some transparent material over the top while the other was rather ornamental and inscribed with various odd looking symbols. It also appeared to be made of gold. That in of itself had the attention of the majority of the room. Shortly after the devices were brought in, Drs. Franklin and Scully came in with two more men in the ship uniform of the _Halsey_.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to witness may sicken you, but I assure you that no harm whatsoever is intended. The two men you see before you are Lieutenant Robertson, formerly of SEAL Team Six and presently attached to the _Halsey_'s special operations section, and Kapitan Tretyego Ranga Ivanov, formerly of Spetsnaz Group Alpha and currently attached to the Marine Expeditionary Force aboard the _Halsey_. Gentlemen, you have been briefed on your assignment, yes?"

"Yes sir! And might we add that we are not looking forward to it, sir!"

"No, I would imagine you are not. Now then, what Captain Pierson is holding is what we call a staff weapon. Its power core is a small amount of naquadah, approximately fifteen grams of it. Before any of you get the wrong idea, the staff weapon is not something we are willing to trade. Its only reason for being here is for the purpose of this demonstration. It fires a small amount of plasma, along the same lines as the standard PPG used by Earth Force and other governments. However, the amount of plasma it fires and the temperature of the resulting plasma is sufficient to burn through flesh and kill most any target with one shot. Captain Pierson, if you will proceed."

Pierson leveled the staff weapon at Ivanov and fired one bolt. The plasma seared through the outer layers of his uniform and burned through his chest, cauterizing the blood vessels as it passed into his body and rupturing his heart. Ivanov was dead before he hit the floor. What resulted from the shot was pandemonium until Ramos could quiet the assembly.

"Doctors, would you examine the body?"

"No need for it. Anyone can see that this young man is dead. Probably dead before he hit the floor."

"Yes. Quite. Now, if you would please place him in the sarcophagus, we will move on to the second part of our demonstration. The weapon Captain Pierson is now holding is our standard weapon for all ground forces aboard the _Halsey_. It is what you would call a slug thrower. That is, it fires a metallic round by using a propellant charge. One shot, well placed, can kill most targets effectively. If you will proceed, sir."

Before any in the audience could protest the action, Pierson let lose several three round bursts at Robertson. His shots were designed not to kill, but to wound severely.

"Doctors, if you would?"

"That may have been a primitive weapon, Admiral, but it did enough damage to this man. Without immediate treatment, he will die."

"Of course. Place him into the stasis chamber. You will notice, that unlike the cryogenic chambers you use, this one is much smaller and much more portable. It uses a small anti-grav impeller to keep it afloat and to allow a single person to move it to any location. The anti-grav impellers are also powered by naquadah. This demonstration was not so much of our killing powers or of our weapons technology, but rather of our healing technology."

He said nothing more for a few minutes, as if waiting for something to happen. Then it did. The lid of the sarcophagus opened up like two wings spreading for flight. Then a startled Ivanov sat up. After a few seconds of running his hands over his chest, he got up and out of the sarcophagus. Pierson and Scully moved Robertson from the stasis chamber directly into the sarcophagus and less than five minutes later the device opened again to reveal a completely healed Robertson.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you have witnessed here is the result of thousands of years of engineering. In the first case, a man who was dead by all measures your science can determine, was placed into the sarcophagus and healed and revived. Doctor Franklin, I am sure you will wish to examine both men to determine any ill effects of the device?"

"I definitely do want to examine them!"

"Good. I would have it no other way. On the modern battlefield, it is not always easy to get the wounded back to a place where your medical science can treat them. This is true of any civilization. However, the stasis chamber renders that argument moot. The stasis chambers can be used to keep the critically wounded stable until such time as your doctors can treat them, or in the event of catastrophic wounds, can place them into a sarcophagus for treatment. The sarcophagus can treat any type of wound, whether caused by a knife or PPG or slug thrower, or caused by some form of terminal illness such as cancer. But there is an unavoidable caveat to the device. Prolonged usage leads to mental instability and insanity. That level is not something we can pinpoint as it is based on an individualistic tolerance for the healing powers of the device.

"Another technology that we utilize is comparable to your own hyperspace method of travel. We too, use hyperspace, though it is as different to your own as night is to day. Using your technology, a ship creates an opening into the realm you call hyperspace, where distances are drastically shorter than in real space. Our method creates what is in effect a stable wormhole. However, unlike Gate based travel where the journey is nearly instantaneous, the sheer amount of energy required to create the ship sized wormhole necessitates the travel time be longer. For instance, the station is approximately 36 standard hyperspace hours from Earth, 44 standard hyperspace hours from Narn, and 48 standard hyperspace hours from Centauri Prime.

"Using our method of travel, those times would be cut to thirty minutes for Earth, and approximately forty-five minutes to either Narn or Centauri Prime. The caveat to this is that in order to generate the stable wormhole of this size, a special form naquadah is necessary called Naquadria. Naquadria is inherently unstable, and any trip longer than two thousand light years necessitates that the ship making the journey periodically drop out of hyperspace to allow the engine systems to cool. But other than that one minor detail, our version of hyperspace travel is much faster than your own.

"A way to offset this problem is to create what are essentially ship sized gates, similar to your jump gates. In fact, it may be remotely possible to convert your existing jump gate system to ship gates so that you can use the existing network of gates. Use of a ShipGate allows the gate itself to create the stable wormhole over vast distances, thereby negating the installation of hyperspace window generators on your ships. This may allow you to circumvent the need for new ship designs.

"Now then, are there any questions over what we have shown you? If not, then I will turn this meeting back over to Captain Sheridan."

"Thank you Admiral, for that very interesting display of your technology. I'm sure that everyone in this room has much to contemplate before the first negotiations commence at zero nine hundred tomorrow. As such, this meeting is adjourned."

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For the first time in several days, Marius returned to the _Halsey_ to try and tackle the ever growing pile of paperwork on his desk. He had been at it for two hours when the chime sounded at the door to his office. With scarcely a look, he bade whoever it was to enter.

"Major Carter? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I have that proposal ready for you sir."

"Refresh my memory. Which proposal?"

"The one to use the wreckage of the Earth Force destroyers?"

"Oh. That proposal. Alright then, lay it on me."

"With the assistance of Commander Ivanova of Babylon 5, we have managed to identify the types of ships that make up the wreckage. None of the vessels are intact enough to just repair, but using bits and pieces in the debris field, we can re-create two _Omega_-class destroyers, an _Olympus_-class corvette, and most of one _Hyperion_-class heavy cruiser. I say most of the vessel because the engines were too damaged to repair. The rest of the wreckage, well other than using them for spare parts, there's not much we can do with them.

"However, if you approve of this plan, then we would have something more substantial to trade to Babylon 5 for the tech we want. What I propose is to use the sheer amount of metal in those wrecks to build at least two modified _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers for them. Modified in the sense that they would be home to their own _Starfury_ fighters rather than to any of our fighters. With all the raw materials out there in orbit around the station, we can accomplish this rather quickly."

"That sounds like an excellent plan. How much time would you need and how large a construction team would you need?"

"How many ships are you planning on sir?"

"Let's call it two for now, with the option of two more, if the supplies are available."

"Well, if could borrow some of those maintenance bots the station uses for the task, I would say we could have at least one cruiser done in say two weeks. Doubling the construction teams, we could possibly build two at once. But we would need to send a couple of our own cruisers back to the asteroid field we first encountered to replenish our own stocks of naquadah and trinium. The amounts of naquadria necessary for the hyperdrives is not enough in of itself to warrant another trip to the asteroid field, but as long as the cruisers are already going there, it would not be a bad idea to obtain more. Back home, the only known source of naquadria is Kelowna."

"A valid point Major. Alright. Put together your teams. I'll arrange for the station to lend us say a dozen of their maintenance bots?"

"A dozen should be sufficient to the task sir."

"Very well then. Put together your lists and get them back to me by seventeen hundred today."

"Yes sir!"

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True to her word, Carter had gotten the lists of personnel needed back to him an hour earlier than requested. Marius had put in a call to the station to request the loan of twelve of the maintenance bots for a construction project and had been granted the usage of twenty-four of the little flying bots, along with a small maintenance crew to oversee their usage. Carter assembled her teams, briefed them on their tasks, and they went right to work. Marius dispatched the _Dallas_, _Tollana_, _Ryan_, and _Cydonia_ to the asteroid field with the express task of mining everything they could find and bringing it back to the _Halsey_. The _Dallas_ had been repaired fairly quickly after the encounter with the Earth Force destroyers some weeks ago and now her crew were aching to show off their battle tested skills.

It had been a little less than a month since they had arrived here. Marius wondered how things were going back home. He gave little thought that they would return safely. Tok'Ra had as much guaranteed that the majority of the crew of the _Halsey_ would return safely. That he himself would return to his home, he thought not much about. If he had to die to ensure the safety of his people, his crew, then he would gladly do so, though he doubted he would die here and now. This universe may hold its own form of danger, but it paled in comparison to the threat of the Cylons and Anubis. He could hardly believe that there were any life forms in this universe, the universe of Babylon 5, that were bent on the total annihilation of all humanoid forms of life. Still, he supposed, the possibility did exist. He looked at the clock and wondered where he day had gone. In a few moments, he would be meeting with the tech negotiations team.

"Gentlemen, let's make this as brief as possible. It's been a long day, and frankly I could use a nice cold beer. So, Major Mulder, if you would start please."

"Sir. Our first meeting is with the Minbari. From them, we hope to gain three weapons technologies, their secret of stealth, their holographic display systems, and their ship building techniques. While they don't use a strictly organic armor for their ships, it is a close approximation and odds are pretty darn good, that said armor is Vorlon in origin. The armor structure of their ships appears crystalline in nature and can refract a fair portion of laser energies directed at it. It would make a fine addition to the hull of the _Halsey_ and it would enable us to withstand several direct laser hits in the event our shields fail. In terms of weapons tech, we are asking them for their electro pulse guns, and their fusion and neutron cannons. The EP guns are a short range in nature and have an EMP effect on the target. That is to say, the 'projectiles' for want of a better word, of the EP guns cause electrical systems to go off-line for a short amount of time. That amount of time could be the difference in a battle."

"Very well. Dr. Jackson, what are your impressions of the Minbari? Will they be willing to trade these techs for what we have to offer?"

"I would say yes to that question. The Minbari are a very ancient race. According to their own history, they were building great cities when man was still moving about in nomadic tribes. They've been out in space at least eleven hundred years and are considered to be among the eldest of the younger races of this universe. Their society is broken down into three castes; warrior, worker, and religious. Their ruling council, what they call the Grey Council, is made up of nine members; three of each caste. There is also a leader who is chosen by the Council, but is not necessarily a member of the Council. The Grey Council does not have a governmental building on any world. They use a ship to move randomly from one colony to another so as to always appear where they are needed most. The honorific given to a Council member is Satai. From my research, I have learned that the identity of the Council members is not widely known. They rule from afar without the intervention of cult followings or the media. In some ways, I'd say that was better than our own form of government, but in others, well, there is always the possibility of odd rulings and laws. Their prime tenet is 'Understanding is not required, only obedience'."

"Very informative, Dr. Jackson. I look forward to your briefings over the next few days regarding the other races of this universe. Major Mulder, please stay for a moment. The rest of you may leave."

"You wished to see me sir?"

"Cut the sir crap, Mulder. I do not like titles. I use them, but I don't like them. In public call me sir or Admiral or even Mr. President. In private, you had damn well better call me Marius."

"Yes sir, uhm, I mean, Marius."

"Good. Now then, what I wanted to tell you is to hold off on the meeting with Sheridan until the end. Make sure it's the last meeting. I'm going to give them a little gift, that is, if Major Carter can work a miracle in the time required."

"Of course, Marius. I'll make sure they'll be the last set of negotiations. I expect each set of negotiations to last no more than two days. Three days tops. The Minbari are scheduled for tomorrow, followed by the Narn, the Centauri, and then the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. Odds are, probably the Vorlon and the Shadows at some point, unless you or Tok'Ra wish to handle those yourselves. Last will be Babylon 5. So maybe a week at the earliest before we meet with Sheridan and his people. Possibly as long as two weeks. Will that be enough time?"

"Two weeks will be good, Mulder. Now, if I'm not mistaken, I'm certain that the fair Major Scully will be eager to see you. Go on, get out of here. Relax for awhile before your meeting tomorrow."

"Anything you say, Mr. President."

Marius went back over Major Carter's plan and saw that she had thought ahead in the matter of secrecy. The first thing they would construct would be an enclosure, to prevent curious eyes from observing the construction process. All in all, things were going quite well, as far as he was concerned.

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_**Epsilon Three**_

_**Chamber of the Great Machine**_

After his visit with Lorien, Tok'Ra had traveled the stars, observing what had become of the many races the Ancient's had once taken an interest in. To his dismay, a number of them had gone the way of the Dodo bird, that is, they had become extinct. The Xon on the world called Centauri Prime had once held their interest but they were no more. Neither were the Dilgar. Or the Ikarrans. All had tremendous potential to become guardians for the younger races. But none had survived. Tok'Ra wondered if that were a good thing or not. He went to Orion VII to see a Flamebird as he had seen them once many millennia previously, but found none. So many things change with the passage of time, but he had not.

His journey brought him back towards the _Halsey_ when he felt the calling in his Quickening. He flew onwards to the third planet in this system and down into the depths of the world. Here he found a great chamber filled with vast amounts of machinery. Machines that he did not recognize. The thought of this piqued his curiosity and he was drawn further into the machinery until he came upon a chamber where he guessed the Heart of the Machine lay. Within the Heart he saw a Minbari. This startled him to no end, so much so that he momentarily phased into normal view. The Minbari within the Great Machine awoke and spoke.

"I believe the Vorlons are known for asking 'Who are you', but I believe my question shall be, what are you?"

"I am Tok'Ra. I am of the race you may know as the Ancients."

"The Great Machine knows you and therefore I, too, know you. You are of what the creators of the Machine called the First Teachers. The ones who came long ago to this universe to teach and to guide. The creators of the Machine learned much from your kind. They used their knowledge to create the Machine."

"Why did they create the Machine?"

"The creators of the Machine, they knew what you would do with the Shadows and the Vorlons. They had the gift of knowing the future and they built the Machine to serve as a counter-point to what they saw would become of the Vorlons and the Shadows. They did was what necessary to shape the outcome. Time is far from linear. It is always in motion, and to make a small change at one point can create ripples in the time stream that will have effects; long-lasting effects in the present, the past, and the future."

"An effect of some event tomorrow has an effect on yesterday? How is that possible?"

"Time is not linear. It is a circle. Where you start on your journey is also where you end your journey. Though the players may be different, the circle remains. A thousand years ago, the Vorlons united some of the younger races and together, they fought the Shadows. Such was also the case a thousand years before that, and a thousand years before that as well. In each instance, the Shadows came, with their allies, to destroy the Vorlons and their allies. In each case, they were driven back to their world of origin, Z'ha'dum. And yet each thousand years, they return, stronger than before. The Circle of time repeats itself. And now, the first circle has been completed. The First Teachers have returned to this place, as was foretold millennia ago."

"Does everyone in this place speak in terms of prophecies?"

"It is a shortcoming perhaps. But it serves to remind the younger races of what is to come. It would not be wise to tell those alive today of the events of tomorrow. Instead, through the influence of the Machine, the future is told in prophecy. This is how it has always been."

"Minbari, you are even more cryptic than the Vorlons."

"Perhaps I am Ancient One. But you have far to go in your journey yet. And though you may wish to do so, you will not pass beyond the rim. There is still One among you that you must guide. You consider him a child, but he will be more than that. To the rest of your kind, those that have passed beyond, he will be the newness that you sought in your experiments so long ago. But, I have said enough for now. When the time comes, I will protect those aboard Babylon 5, as is my duty. And you, Ancient One, must do what you can to help young Marius to complete the new ships he now creates for Sheridan."

Draal had finished his long prepared speech and stepped back into the Heart of the Machine. There to watch over the universe and all its permutations of time and space. Tok'Ra, on the other hand, could do naught but stare at the Minbari and the warning he perceived in his diatribe. Perhaps it was not so much a warning as a blessing? It was impossible for him to decide. In all his travels and all his years in the universe, no, in the multi-verse, he had never come across one such as Draal and the Machine. It must be a tremendous responsibility, this watching over time and the multi-verse. Perhaps Lorien had been correct in his assessment. Perhaps the ones who created the Machine had been the Chosen of the Progenitors? He did not speculate further.

Tok'Ra rose up from the planet and looked long into the realm of hyperspace. He could see, several light years from this place, six fleets. Six fleets that would soon converge on the space around the station. Six fleets that he hoped and prayed would not open fire on each other. As he floated into view of the station, he saw the enclosed space dock where the Tau'ri were busily constructing two of their battlecruisers, and rebuilding four other ships. He perceived the design changes, those meant for Sheridan, those meant to house fighters of this universe. So he helped the project along some. With a slight manipulation of energies, vast sections of the ship came together. It startled the crews working on the ships, but one of them saw Tok'Ra hovering at the entrance to the enclosure and radioed the others to move out of the way.

Panel by panel and deck by deck, the ships took form. And when he was done, the ships were complete save for their innards. The engines were not there, nor were weapons or fighters, but Tok'Ra felt that he had done enough. The fleets in space were still a few days away. If the Tau'ri worked all of their shifts at the same time, they would finish the two cruisers in time.

Time. Though he existed outside its influence, not really aging, he was still keenly aware of its passage. Now he feared that there would not be enough time. Not enough time to do what was necessary.

----------------------------------------

_**Admiral's Office**_

_**AIS Halsey**_

_**1430 hrs**_

_**Journey Day 35**_

"How did it go, Mulder?"

"Quite well actually. Things went along faster than we expected and we have concluded negotiations with the Minbari and with the Narn. From the Minbari, we will receive design specifications for their weaponry and stealth technology, along with their gravitic drive systems and their hull armor technology. In return, we have given them one set of working gates and a pair of DHDs from storage, along with the designs to build more and the designs for the ShipGates. We gave them, also, one naquadah generator for them to experiment on, and the plans to build more. As a bonus, though it was something that we also wanted, they gave us their holographic technology and to you sir, they gave a warrior's fighting pike. There are several additional pikes, one for each Immortal aboard the _Halsey_."

"That's mighty generous of them."

"There was one other thing they offered, but I had to turn them down. They offered to loan us two of their _WhiteStar_ cruisers, complete with crews, but as I had no idea how we could get the crews back to this place, I had to turn them down."

"Contact their Ambassador, and ask if the offer still stands. If it does, accept it. We have a way to return the crews, but not the ships. Ask Ambassador Delenn if she would join me in my quarters later this evening so that I may explain to her just how we will return those crews. Ask her to invite Lyta Alexander, as this will concern her as well."

"I'll see to it immediately. As for the Narn, sir. We gave them the same items. They, in return, gave us two dozen working energy mines and the plans to build more. They also gave us some captured Centauri weapons, like their main battle laser cannons. Though these we did not ask for, they gave us in any case. As Citizen G'Kar put it, 'you have given us so much and have asked for so little that my government has authorized a few gifts.' After that he added the particle beam weapons plans that they use on their fighters. It appears to be the same type the Centauri use."

"Very well. What's next, Mulder?"

"The Centauri in the morning. Followed by the League Ambassadors. The League has chosen a Drazi, a Brakiri, and a Vree to represent their interests. Whatever comes out of the meeting, I will see to it that all of the other Ambassadors receive the same information, lest the 'official' representatives hold anything back for themselves."

"Very well. Get some sleep Mulder. Please tell Ambassador Delenn that I will be in my quarters on the station after nineteen hundred."

"I will, sir."

----------------------------------------

Shortly after Fox Mulder left the Admiral's office, Major Carter appeared to give her progress reports.

"Sir."

"At ease, Major. Your report, please?"

"Sir. A short while ago, Tok'Ra appeared in the construction dock. I'm not sure how he did what he did, but save for engines, offensive and defensive systems and fighters, the pair of battlecruisers are nearly complete, along with the other four ships we were rebuilding from the debris. The full hulls are in place complete with all interior decks and rooms. All we have to do now is place the engines and the defensive and offensive systems. I've contacted the Forge chiefs, and told them to start building those systems. We expect to have the first engines in place by twenty-two hundred this evening. After the engines are in place, we'll lay in the reactor systems and all of the other minor internal systems. Hopefully by noon tomorrow, when the Forge chiefs are through building the offensive weapons and with the fighters, we'll be able to install those final systems. Without Tok'Ra's help, we'd still be laying keels, sir. He's taken a good month off the construction time. It just makes me wonder if he knows something we don't."

"God, I hope not Major. I'm getting kinda tired of his surprises."

"Me too, sir."

"You realize, Major, that when all this is over, when we get back to where we are supposed to be, that I'll go back to being a Major the same as you? So, at least in private, cut the 'sir' please?"

"Yes of course, Mr. President."

"Hmmm, maybe I prefer Admiral to that. Actually, all I want is to take a small ship and see the galaxy for awhile. I didn't want to become Admiral anymore than I wanted to become President. I was quite content, Major, in my lab with my experiments. That is, until a certain Air Force Major and Colonel showed up in my office, where with Presidential authority, you got to see my work. I'm beginning to wonder if I shouldn't have insisted on a flying post rather than a research post. Maybe if I had taken that route, I'd still be blissfully unaware of all that has happened."

"Knowing you, Marco, you'd probably have been chosen for the 1st SFW. You'd probably still be involved with the fight. I looked up your flying records from the first two world wars. With records like those, you would have been a cinch to get into that wing. And of course, you'd still be involved in the Game."

"Too true, Major. Perhaps then, it was a good thing you and the Colonel came into my life. In any case, do keep me apprised of the construction situation. I have the distinct feeling that Tok'Ra wanted those ships ready a lot earlier for a reason. A reason that has me scared with the unknown."

"I will, Marco. If that's all, sir, I need to get back to my teams."

"That will be all Major. Dismissed."

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_**Babylon 5**_

_**Green Sector**_

_**1930 hrs**_

Marco had thought long and hard during the afternoon after Mulder's report. What he was about to give Ambassador Delenn could be used for good or ill, but he hoped that in her capable hands, she would use it for good. The quantum mirror is what the Ancients created so long ago as a way to move through the barriers between dimensions. In this case, the mirror was locked in one destination, the Immortal colony on Luna. He had a few of these mirrors, in a special vault in his quarters, a gift from Tok'Ra who told him he might have need of them. Certainly he could see the need now, or was it some unknown desire causing him to give this out? He had learned long ago to go with his first guess in a situation. To second guess himself invited trouble he did not need. He looked to his watch and noted the time just as Kyra announced the arrival of Ambassador Delenn and Lyta Alexander.

"Ambassador, Ms. Alexander. Please come in. Have a seat. May I get you anything to drink? Tea perhaps?"

"Tea would be nice, thank you."

"Anything for you Ms. Alexander?"

"No thanks."

Marius busied himself preparing tea for himself and the Ambassador while pondering just how he was going to bring up this particular subject.

"Now then, I'm fairly certain you two are wondering why I have asked you over this evening. The first bit of business we must discuss involves you Ambassador, directly, and you, Ms. Alexander, indirectly. Major Mulder told me you offered us two of your _WhiteStar_ cruisers complete with crews, if we had a method of returning those crews, yes?"

"That was the offer I made. Do you have a way of returning those crews?"

"I do. Or rather, the Ancients do. Long ago, when the Ancients were beginning to explore the universe, they came upon a very real problem; their ships were slow and the universe was vast. So like any space fairing civilization, they set out to solve those problems. But instead of looking in only one possible direction, they examined three possible technologies. One of those technologies that resulted from their experiments was the Stargate system, which, I believe, Major Mulder and his staff traded to you earlier this day. The second successful technology was the hyperspace gate generator drive system we use in all of our ships. It is similar in concept to your hyperspace technology, except that we don't actually cross a dimensional barrier to enter hyperspace. Our engine technology works by creating a hole into subspace to circumvent the longer distances in normal space.

"The final technology resulted in something like this mirror here. When activated, the mirror opens a gateway between realities. A normal quantum mirror has a number of controls that allows the potential traveler to examine a number of different realities prior to entering the gateway. This mirror, however, only goes to one other reality, and that is my home reality. I will leave this in you safe keeping Delenn of Mir, so that when the time comes, your crews may be returned to you safely.

"Now then, Ms. Alexander. The reason for your presence here. I am aware that telepaths were created by Vorlon manipulation of your genetic material. That you were created as a weapon in the upcoming fight against the Shadows. But what will you do when the fight is done? I have seen, with my own eyes, the distrust of others when seeing a telepath. Now, it may be true that not all telepaths, or teeps, as I believe you term them, are distrusted. But it seems to me that the distrust works both ways. Telepaths no more trust mundanes than normals trust teeps. So here is an option for you, should the need arise. Go to Delenn, and ask her to use the mirror.

"You see, the mirror works both ways. Touching it here will instantaneously transport you to the Immortal colony on Luna in my reality. Touching the correct mirror there will bring you here. There is, however, a major catch to this. If there exists a duplicate of you in your intended dimension, the two beings will begin to experience what we call entropic cascade failure. Two identical beings can not exist in the same reality at the same time. I do not believe the Minbari crews will experience this as we have no Minbari in my home reality. But you, Ms. Alexander, and any other telepaths that so desire, may travel to my reality. If you experience no symptoms of cascade failure after ninety-six hours, then you will be given provisional permission to stay on Luna. After a period of six weeks, the Immortal Council will meet to discuss your arrival and at that time will decide whether to grant citizenship of Luna. Understand this, in my reality there are no telepaths, or at least none of your strength.

"The Tau'ri are only now beginning to explore the wonders of the human mind. But as to the Immortal mind, we know almost nothing. As you have seen for yourself, it is next to impossible to read an Immortal's thoughts or sense their emotions, unless of course, we allow you to do so. But you personally, may or may not decide to go. That is entirely up to you. I am merely giving you the option of doing so."

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_**Babylon 5**_

_**Command and Control**_

_**Journey Day 45**_

Marius was in Command and Control to present a gift to Captain Sheridan and the forces of his resistance movement. Marius was certain that Sheridan suspected what the gift might be, but he was unsure if Sheridan knew or realized its full import. So now the two of them stood in front of the window looking on into space in front of the massive station known as Babylon 5.

"Captain, your friendly neighborhood Vorlon, Kosh, mentioned something to me once. And it took some time for what he said to become clear in my mind, but it did, eventually. I will say this, Vorlons are nothing if not obscure in their speech. It may be clear to them and it may serve their purpose to be vague to the younger races, but I find it easier to speak plainly. So let us speak plainly. In the past few minutes, two of three gifts have been delivered; one to your official office, and one to your residence. Kosh mentioned to me your fondness for oranges and the smell of orange blossoms. To this end, on behalf of myself and the crew of the _Halsey_, we have given to you two pairs of dwarf orange trees.

"The remaining gift is about to appear."

Marius spoke into the radio secured to his vest at about the level of his left shoulder. Seconds later he pointed to Sheridan and bade him look at the dock enclosure floating in front of and to one side of Babylon 5. As he stared at it, he saw the 'front' doors cycle open and the protective shields of the dock drop. A vessel began to come out of it, but when he looked more closely, this time on the view screen, he saw that it was in fact two vessels. These were of the smaller battlecruiser class of ship used by the AIS.

"Captain Sheridan, on behalf of the Alliance of Independent Systems, I present to you two vessels of the _Prometheus-_class for your use. There have been some minor modifications made to these two ships. First and foremost, we have included the same type of weaponry found in the _WhiteStar_-class vessels. Secondly, the hangar bays have been reconfigured to support your shuttles and fighters instead of our shuttles and fighters. The ships utilize our form of supra-luminal travel; the Hyperspace Window Generator. There is one sarcophagus aboard each ship along with five stasis chambers. These technologies we have already given to you if only in the form of design specifications.

"Lastly, and this is for your ears only. If you choose to share this information, well, it will be entirely up to you. Both ships have been equipped with force shields, and each ship has a smaller version of the _Halsey_'s forge deck, so at the very least you will be able to make more fighters and effect emergency repairs without the need for docks or stations. Additionally, the _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers are atmospheric capable. That is, the ship can safely enter an atmosphere and land on a planet. Major Carter, who headed the engineering and construction teams, reported one extra that she included in the construction process. A partial-bay that will allow a _WhiteStar_ to dock with the carrier. The size of your _WhiteStar_s is such that they are too big to dock with the carrier. So she has made something that resembles a mold, for lack of a better term, where a single _WhiteStar_ can dock into and transfers can be made more easily. The smaller _WhiteStar_ has to be docked in what is essentially an upside down position to facilitate a transfer point between the carrier and the _WhiteStar_."

"Captain! Hyperspace sensors indicate a large fleet preparing to enter Babylon 5 space!"

Lieutenant Corwin had no more finished uttering these words when a fleet of Earth Force destroyers jumped into Babylon 5 space. A large fleet. But before anyone could utter another word, a second fleet jumped into B5 space; a Centauri fleet. For an instant that felt like an eternity to all concerned, no one did anything. Then both fleets began launching fighters. Then, it was as if all hell had broken loose on B5.

"Mr. Corwin! Launch all fighters and have them hold near the station!"

"Yes Captain!"

"Well, Sheridan, it looks like this could be a bad situation for us all. We will, of course, do everything in our power to save B5."

"I think we're going to need a miracle."

"I think, Captain Sheridan, that miracles need to be our stock in trade this day."

As Marius finished his comments two more fleets jumped into B5 space.

"Shit. I think I spoke too soon. Marius to _Halsey_!"

"_Halsey_ here. O'Neill speaking, Marco. You see what we see?"

"Affirmative Colonel. How many of our crew are on the station?"

"Major Mulder and his team, yourself and your guards, and four hundred others on shore leave."

"Initiate recall for all personnel. Colonel, Jack, I think we should use the Asgard protocols for this one."

"Ya think? Ok. Stand ready."

"Admiral? What are the Asgard protocols you mentioned?"

"You'll see them in action in a bit here Sheridan."

And so saying, Marius felt himself ensconced in an Asgard transporter beam. A split second later he was standing on the bridge of the _Halsey_. Sheridan and the crew who had been a moment before looking at Admiral Ramos were shocked by the appearance of the white beam that surrounded the Admiral and whisked him away to someplace. It was something they had never imagined possible. Teleportation. In their wildest dreams, they had never imagined this. It was something the people from the _Halsey_ had taken great care not to show to the inhabitants of this universe. But with fleets from Earth Force, the Centauri, the Vorlons, and the Shadows in B5 space, it was necessary.

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_**AIS Halsey**_

_**Bridge**_

"Sensor officer, report!"

"Sir. Earth force vessels first. Twelve of their _Omega_-class destroyers, six _Hyperion_-class heavy cruisers, six _Nova_-class dreadnoughts, and ten _Olympus_-class corvettes. For the Centauri fleet, there are fifteen _Primus-_class battle cruisers and twelve _Vorchan_-class warships. There are approximately thirty-eight Vorlon vessels of various types and classifications unknown to us, and fifty-five Shadow vessels, also of various types and configurations. Both the Earth Force vessels and the Centauri ships have launched fighters, but they are holding near their respective ships. B5 has launched all of her fighters and those are holding near the station."

"All right people. Let's do this one by the numbers. Mr. Jameson, sound general quarters. Colonel O'Neill, might I suggest you get to the launch bays? I'm going to need a level head controlling the squadrons."

"On my way."

"Sir. Emergency beam-outs are completed. All personnel now back aboard the _Halsey_."

"Weps, shields to full and charge all weapons. Sensors, give me as much detailed information on those ships as possible. Find their weak spots and feed that to Weps."

"Aye sir."

"Affirmative. Shields at full. All weapons charged and standing by."

"Flight bay reports ready to launch at will."

"Launch all squadrons, but keep them close to the _Halsey_. No one is to fire unless so ordered by either the Bridge or the wing commanders."

"_Attention carrier vessel Halsey. This is General Lefcourt of Earth. You are ordered to stand to and prepare to be boarded. You have five minutes to comply."_

"_Attention vessel Halsey. I am Lord General Marrago of the Centauri fleet. You are ordered to stand down and prepare to be boarded. You have five minutes to comply."_

Both messages were received simultaneously. And the response was just as quick, though it did not come from the _Halsey_.

"_Human and Centauri ships. The Halsey is under our protection. Any attempt to board her will result in your complete and utter destruction."_

"Where did that come from?"

"I believe it was the Vorlons, Admiral."

"And what are the Shadows doing?"

"Unknown sir."

"_Centauri and Human vessels. The Ancient is under our protection. Do not harm the Ancient."_

"I guess that answers my question. Comms, open a channel to all vessels and to the station."

"Channel open sir."

"Attention. This is Admiral Ramos aboard the AIS _Halsey_. For the moment, we have a stand off. The _Halsey_ would be hard pressed to defend itself against thirty-four Earth Force ships. The same is true for the twenty-seven Centauri vessels. But I have a feeling that even both of your fleets combined would not stand a chance against either the Vorlon fleet or the Shadow fleet. And possibly for the first time in the history of this universe, both the Vorlons and the Shadows are acting as allies. I propose the following. A representative from each fleet present to meet with the Ancient aboard Babylon 5. If this agreeable, then please signal your intent."

For several tense moments, no one spoke. General Lefcourt, aboard the EAS _Midway_, had never in his military career been faced with such a situation. Yes, he had fought in the Earth-Minbari war and before that in the Dilgar war. But on those occasions, the Centauri had not been an enemy. Had it just been his vessels against the _Halsey_, he was sure that Earth Force would win. But it wasn't just his force against the _Halsey_. In the span of the last few minutes, that plan had gone completely and utterly to hell. Oh well, he thought and remembered, no plan survives contact. It was one of the many unofficial rules of combat that were just as true now as they were when first written centuries before. Attributable to some grunt named Murphy as he recalled. He signaled to the _Halsey_ his agreement of the meeting and a moment later he screamed as the Asgard transporter beam grabbed him and brought him to the station.

For his own part, Lord General Marrago had faced countless enemies and lived to tell the tale. He had thought it would be a simple thing; to take this ship and steal its secrets. But his fleet had jumped in a few tens of seconds behind an Earth fleet. The did not know, of course, of the presence of the Earth fleet. Seeing so many of the Earther's vessels in B5 space had, for a moment after they jumped in, startled him to his very core. But now, with both Vorlons and Shadows there to protect what they called the Ancient, he knew in both of his hearts that he could not win. So he would agree to this meeting. A few seconds after he sent his agreement to the meeting, he felt the Asgard beam grab him and he felt something he had not experienced since he was a child on the home world; fear and awe.

The Vorlons and Shadows were quick to agree to the meeting and they shortly found themselves in the grip of the Asgard transporter beam. A second later and they stood in the Council chambers within Babylon 5.

Marius walked into the Council chambers with Sheridan, Delenn, Mollari, and G'Kar in tow. The Immortal Strike team was now standing guard in the corridors leading to the Council chamber. No one would interfere with this meeting.

"General Lefcourt. Lord General Marrago. I am Admiral, no, I will give you my true name. I am Gaius Marius Augustus, President of the Immortal Council and child of the Ancients. And while it may be a boon to your sensibilities to deal with me, this particular meeting is not about us, at least not entirely. We have in this room, representatives of the major players in this universe: the Centauri, the Humans, the Narn, and the Minbari. Of course, we also have the Shadows and the Vorlons. I would think, that everyone else in this room is considering this a once in a lifetime sort of event, to be in the room not only with a Shadow, but also with a Vorlon. And not just any Shadow or Vorlon. We have here with us the two rulers of those empires, and their appointed designates aboard the station. But as I already said, this meeting is not about the younger races, it is about the elder races and for that I have to turn over this meeting, for now, to Tok'Ra. For while I am a child of the Ancients, Tok'Ra _is_ an Ancient."

"My thanks to you Marius. I can not recall ever being introduced in such a manner."

Lord General Marrago and General Lefcourt, had not previously been informed of the existence of the Ancients or their children. So the pronouncement by the man, this Gaius Marius, meant nothing to them, though the name did tweak a memory within General Lefcourt. And so when Tok'Ra appeared within the room, as a golden fog of a cloud, semi transparent and semi opaque, with particles of denser looking matter in eccentric orbits, well, it would be safe to say that both men considered themselves to be way in over their heads.

"Vorlon and Shadow. Shadow and Vorlon. You have come a long way since my people were last here. Has it been so long for you that you no longer remember what it is to be considered a younger race? In your time, when your races were young, there were the First Ones to follow, and there were us, the Ancients, the First Teachers, to learn from. But, it seems as though our methodology was in error, for you have greatly disappointed us, and that is something that we must strive to correct.

"And if we had a few thousand years, we would do so, but that will not come to pass. I am of the race you called the Ancients. When the others of my kind were here among you, they saw in you great potential. Potential to lead the younger races who would follow you. Perhaps you would help them avoid the mistakes you made? But that is not important.

"Over the course of centuries, my kind gradually left this place. In terms you would understand, they passed beyond the rim, which is a highly eccentric way of saying that they evolved. I remained, as did one other. To finish what we started so long ago. But I did not remain here. I returned with the others to our home, and you, dear Vorlon, you chose to try and follow. Though we made sure that the technology for crossing the dimensional barrier was inert, you chose to take it and study it. And what did your studies yield? Tell me Vorlon? Did you close the breach before you unleashed unto this universe a terror heretofore unseen? Don't bother answering as the question was rhetorical in nature.

"And when all was said and done and the Ancients had left his place, you Vorlons, and you Shadows, came to our outpost world. You went there with the full intent of trying to stop us from leaving, but you were too late. Vorlon, you saw the device we used to cross the dimensional barrier and you took that, along with two other technologies. Technologies, I might add, that your Shadow counterparts also took from our outpost world. Technologies that we created to terraform worlds, you bastardized and corrupted into weapons. So, while I could ask you to stop using those technologies, I highly doubt that you will."

Tok'Ra paused for a moment, as if to catch his breath, and the Vorlon leader spoke; its voice a pleasant sounding harmony of flutes and bells.

"Why did you leave us, so long ago? Perhaps it would have been different had you stayed."

"We left. It was not anything that you did. We left to counter an enemy that was beginning to take a foothold in our home space. In that respect, we, the Ancients, failed miserably. The war against this enemy is ongoing still, though we Ancients do not fight in it. The responsibility of protecting the younger races has fallen to our Children. When we left, so long ago, you were already heading down the path that would divide your two races permanently. Already you were considering the philosophy that you would use to guide the younger races that were just beginning to make their presence known. We came here, a quarter of a million years ago, and the next to the last of our kind left this place a mere fifteen thousand years ago. And even then we were fighting skirmishes with our enemy.

"And while you, as an elder race, gave your younger charges the option of advancement through introspection or advancement through strife and conquest, this other elder race in our home universe saw all of the younger races as toys. They saw them as things to conquer and rule over, as objects to enslave. They certainly did not see them as equals. And they still do not see the Tau'ri as equals. The humanoids in our universe serve the enemy as foot soldiers in their armies, as slaves in their cities, as living incubators for more of their kind. Had they been able to travel to this place, I daresay, that both Vorlon and Shadow would have united to fight this enemy. For while you may be their elders, you do not seek to destroy them on a whim, nor do you seek to enslave them or force them to worship you, though that last part can be extensively debated, for I have seen the manipulations of their psyches to your benefit. They respond to you with either awe or fear, as you have conditioned them to respond, but, and I believe this sincerely, that is entirely different from treating them as slaves. For while they do look up to you in some degree, they also possess some extent of self direction. The Goa'uld of our universe do not allow this self-direction."

"First Teacher, we would never believe ourselves to be so superior that we would make the younger ones worship us."

"I believe, for the first time, that I must agree with my Vorlon counterpart. We strove to do as your kind taught. We strove to guide the younger races to where they could take our place among the stars as we took over for the First Ones so long ago. We sought to guide and to teach, not to enslave and destroy."

"But there you failed Shadow. Yes, you did guide and yes, you did teach. But you taught only your way of life, only your philosophy for advancement. And the Vorlons share this fault as they taught only their philosophy. But for any civilization to grow and mature into something that can be held up as an example to a younger race, there has to be compromise between the two divergent philosophies. Your races are powerful, but together, you could have been so much more to this place. Together, you could have been someone we, the Ancients, would have considered an equal. Apart, you are but one more failure among so many of our failures."

The room was quiet for a time, perhaps two or three minutes, but it seemed like an eternity to those in the room, particularly those of the younger races. Never in their lives had they thought to speak to either a Vorlon or a Shadow in such a fashion. If the Vorlon encounter suit could show emotion, it would have flinched at the rebuke given by Tok'Ra. Sheridan could swear he did see the Shadow flinch when Tok'Ra called it a failure. He could almost imagine tears coming down the face of the Shadow. He had been on the receiving end of similar speeches when he was very young. This was the type of speech a father might give to his son. And when he looked at it closely, he guessed that's how Tok'Ra must be feeling, as a parent to the younger races, whether of this universe or not.

For her part, Delenn would have died of embarrassment for the way Tok'Ra spoke to the Vorlon High Chancellor, the leader of the Vorlon Empire. She cared not for the veiled and apparent insults leveled at the Shadow, as she had always considered the Shadows to be her enemy. But the Minbari had been around a long time, and had been associated with the Vorlons for most of that time, since at least the time of Valen, if not earlier. And so they, the Minbari, had learned over their close association to read the movements of the encounter suits. But even then, it was a risky thing, to presume to know the mind of a Vorlon. But just now she did presume to know, and that feeling was echoed by Draal, on the planet below, watching the events unfold on the station. Though no one could ever prove such in a court of law, the Vorlon had not only flinched, but he had nearly fainted from the sheer pain at the realization of what the First Teacher had just said.

G'Kar had always been a man of philosophy. Had he been born on Earth, odds are he would have been a new age Socrates or Plato. He was a philosopher to his very core, but that could have been a result of the Centauri occupation of his world. What else to do but sit and watch as so many of your fellow citizens are tortured or killed? What else to do but watch as your once bountiful forests are clear cut and their stumps destroyed? What else to do but watch as the mineral wealth of your world is strip-mined and the beautiful and life filled seas of your world are drained dry? What else indeed! He had joined the rebellion and they had eventually cast the Centauri off their world, but it was a stricken world. His experience had taught him many things, not the least of which was his outlook on life. He understood philosophy. But it is easy to philosophize when your race is among the most powerful, if not the most powerful, in the known universe. It is not easy, however, to learn how your fleet was destroyed by this supposedly all powerful race and to learn that your ancient enemy, that you have cast off your world, has come back, if only to enslave you once again. No, being in the presence of such greatness as was in this room; Sheridan and Delenn, the Vorlon leader and the Shadow leader, even the creature known as Tok'Ra, such was enough to either drive one insane or drive one towards reflection. It was good that he was already driven towards reflection.

Mollari, on the other hand, was not a man given to philosophizing, not unless he was drunk. But like any Centauri in recent history, he knew of the Vorlons. The fact that he, Londo Mollari, also personally knew of the Shadows was inconsequential. What mattered here was how Centauri Prime, and more importantly how he, could benefit from all this angst thrown at both the Vorlons and the Shadows. The truth of the matter was simple. Tok'Ra, feeling his responsibilities of a parent, had returned to chastise his errant children. But when he left, to go back to where ever he claimed to be from, the two wayward children would go back to what they had been doing for millennia; guiding the younger races as they saw fit.

So while so many were having such divergent thoughts at the same time, the Vorlon and the Shadow were looking, first at one another, then at Tok'Ra, and then back and forth. Neither had been spoken to in such a fashion in much longer than they cared to admit. Before they could answer to the charges levied them by Tok'Ra, the being in question spoke again.

"I don't expect either of you to change your ways. That will come soon enough. And I don't expect either of you will cease to use the weapons that you claimed from us, however, I would like something in exchange for that which you have taken. Both of you took the same two technologies from us. I ask this, not on behalf of the Ancients, but on behalf of my Children and their protectorates. For you see, where we Ancients tried to adopt you and teach you our ways for dealing with younger races, we created life in our home universe and charged them with the protection and guidance of the younger races. And while your two races have been in what amounts to a Cold War for a thousand years, our younger races have been at war with or enslaved by the Goa'uld for at least ten thousand years. Frankly, they need every edge they can obtain if they are to rid my home galaxy of this scourge called the Goa'uld. So, without my telling you which technologies I wish to obtain, will you give them to me?"

"For the First Teacher, the Vorlons will give all that is asked."

"First Teacher, you honor us with your request. We will give what is asked."

"Excellent! I venture to say that your organic ship technology is too far in advance of even my Children, but perhaps in a hundred thousand years, they may be ready for it. And if you decide to give that technology to me, I will hold it in trust for them until such time as I believe they are ready for it. But what will prove most useful to them is the armor your vessels use, particularly the self-healing abilities. And if you would be so kind as to each of you give your best beam weapon to my Children, then I will have to change my opinion of you. In coming together for this task, to not only give the specifications and theory behind the weapons, but to install a pair of each weapon on the vessel _Halsey_, in coming together you will have reached the gestalt of our teachings. In working for a joint cause, perhaps not one of your own, but joint nonetheless, you will have finally taken those early teachings to heart, and you will have finally learned the ultimate lesson. So, what say you?"

"It will be done."

Both Vorlon and Shadow spoke at once. It was an occasion that, odds were, would not be repeated. At least not until the younger races stood up to their guides. But that was still in the future and for now, it was a different thing. Sheridan pulled Lefcourt aside and explained that Babylon 5 had negotiated for the technologies of the Ancients. He went on to state that Earth would receive those same technologies only after Clark was removed from office, but until such time as that happened, Lefcourt and his fellow Clark supporters could expect to see small but heavily armed ships holding the line against the dark. Mollari had sought out Marrago and had informed him of the successful negotiations that had secured several of the Ancients' technologies. That was an unknown fact to the Emperor and both saw that as a way to get around the Emperor's decree. Neither of the men had any desire to be executed by the Emperor, a man which they both believed to be quite insane.

After Tok'Ra was done with both the Vorlon High Chancellor and the Shadow leader, those two were beamed back to their respective ships and Tok'Ra faded from view. The lesser races gathered in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief. Marco took the opportunity to speak.

"Well, I think that went well. It's rather difficult to tell actually. I still haven't learned how to read the various movements of the Vorlon encounter suit, and I doubt I will ever understand the myriad eye expressions of a Shadow, and I haven't been around Tok'Ra long enough to read the patterns in his cloud. So, if neither the Vorlon nor the Shadow fleet opens fired on anyone else in the next few minutes, then I'd have to say we came out of that pretty well."

Those in the room paused for a moment, as if listening for weapons fire.

"Well, I didn't hear anything. I hope that's a good sign. I'm going to assume for a moment, that Ambassador Mollari and Captain Sheridan have told the two naval leaders in this room that they were quite successful in negotiating several new technologies from us. Am I correct?"

"You don't miss much Admiral."

"You are correct."

"Well, I am wondering at the moment if you would be amenable to re-opening negotiations for the moment?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, considering that we plan to spend a bit more time here integrating these new weapons systems into the _Halsey_, I propose to use our Forge Decks to build a few things for your governments, and in return I'd like one additional item from your governments, if you are able to provide that.

"For the Centauri, we will produce one full wing of your standard _Sentri_ fighters, with two minor modifications; trinium armor and naquadah generators. While trinium is a rare metal in our home system, it is rather abundant here, if you know what you are looking for. The replacement of the standard three and a quarter centimeter thick armor with an equivalent layer of trinium makes your _Sentri_ fighter able to withstand several direct energy blasts. The naquadah generators, these you already have the plans for, will boost the duration of your fighters by four times their current amount. In return, we would like either one _Vorchan_ or one _Primus_ class vessel, and, if at all possible, a number of what you call blockade mines, so that we may study a working example in addition to examining the schematics that we have previously negotiated for.

"For Babylon 5, while we realize that you do not speak for the Earth Alliance, Captain Sheridan, we are willing to make a few additional trades with you. We will take all of your _Thunderbolt_ fighters aboard and replace their standard micro-fusion reactors with naquadah generators. Additionally, the four primary plasma pulse cannons will be swapped out with the standard multi-barreled rail guns that our own fighters use. Lastly, we will convert the hard points to our standard and equip your station with enough missiles to see your fighter squadrons through several dozen engagements. The missile I am speaking of is the SIM-182 Venom, with a range of one hundred and twenty kilometers. Replacing the plasma pulse cannons with the rail guns frees up the necessary power to fire the heavy particle beam at a faster and heavier rate of fire to the equivalent of six pulses per second.

"In return for these modifications, we request the remaining amount of debris in the system, left over from the battle with the EA forces when we first arrived. Also, we'd like a few working maintenance bots, and three working Construction Fury's to study.

"If the Representative of the Earth Alliance is willing, we will give to them, what has already been given to the station in terms of medical technologies, in exchange for any one of your ships out there, or for one of your long range tender ships. I believe they are _Cotton_-class?"

Marco moved away at that point, to allow the various persons in the room to discuss the little speech he'd just made. In one corner of the room, Sheridan was showing Lefcourt the imagery recorded the day of the 'show and tell' presentation on the medical technology. And in another corner of the room, Ambassador Mollari was doing his best to convince Lord General Marrago that parting with one small ship would more than offset the price these humans were willing to pay. The modifications alone to their _Sentri_ fighters would mean that they could taken on even Minbari fighters and come out alive. After a short discussion that threatened to become rather heated, Ambassador Mollari informed Marco that the Centauri answer would be forthcoming shortly. The two Centauri men left the room at that point.

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An hour later, Marco was called to the quarters of Ambassador Mollari.

"Ambassador. Lord General. Have you had time to discuss my proposals?"

"We have Admiral. Marrago has graciously consented to trading one of his _Vorchan_ cruisers, though he can not offer you any of his crews."

"That is quite acceptable, Ambassador. I will order my crews to begin production on the updated _Sentri_ fighters immediately."

While Marco spoke with the _Halsey_, Marrago bade the others good day and went out for a much needed drink in private. When Marco was done, Londo Mollari asked him a rather serious question.

"Admiral, where ever it is that you are going, is there any hope of return? What I mean to say is, if I were to send someone with you, dare I hope to ever see them again?"

"There is hope of return Ambassador. That hope lies with Delenn of Minbar, for she alone has been entrusted with the knowledge of the method of dimensional travel. Why do you ask?"

"I, well, I have a nephew. Carn Mollari. My future is a dark one. I am well aware of that. But if I can spare him this pain, perhaps he can return in due time to resurrect what is left of the Centauri Empire, and if not, then perhaps he can begin anew in your home universe?"

"One man can not start a colony by himself, Londo. Surely you are aware of this?"

"I am. The _Vorchan_ can hold a crew of eighty. Even that is not enough to start a colony. But I have contacts on the Home World. There are many Centauri, male and female, with no family ties, that would give anything for a chance to start anew some place else. There is one person, a woman, who is very dear to my hearts. I fear that she may be used against me. She was due to arrive on the station in a few weeks, but I will ask her to come now. I will find you a crew for the _Vorchan_, and I will find you as many colonists as is necessary. Give me a number, Admiral?"

"We can safely carry perhaps a few hundred, no more than a thousand. That should be enough, no?"

"More than enough. I will work as quickly as possible. Call it five days from now?"

"Five days Ambassador. I can delay our departure that much. Perhaps six days. And now, Londo, I have many details to attend to. I must bid you good day."

"Good day, Admiral."

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_**One Hour Later**_

_**Private Quarters of John Sheridan**_

Marius had hoped he hadn't pushed things too much with his requests, but already the Centauri had given him one of their ships. He hoped that General Lefcourt would do something along similar lines.

"Captain Sheridan. You wished to see me?"

"Before I say anything else, I wanted to thank you for the gift of the orange trees. Both my quarters and my office have never smelled better. Now, about the request you made to Lefcourt, I must confess that I didn't expect it. But after I showed him the video of the demonstration you gave, and after his CMO had a chance to speak with my CMO, well, he was pretty agreeable to almost anything at that point. But still, the last thing I expected him to give up was a _Nova_-class Dreadnought! Even if it is one of the oldest ships in the Earth Alliance Navy. He said his CMO told him the schematics to the stasis pod alone were worth the cost of a _Nova_. Lefcourt balked at that supposition, but his CMO went on to state that a working stasis pod would be worth a _Nova_ or three. Now mind you, I didn't show them the sarcophagus, but the stasis pod alone was enough to make their mouths water.

"So Lefcourt sweetened the deal. He threw in a _Cotton_-class tender, and I gave him two more stasis pods. Unfortunately, the pods I gave him were the ones on the station, so if you could replace those for me?"

"You're a tough bargainer. I'll order my ship to transfer over an even dozen pods. So, tell me about my new ships?"

"The _Nova_-class is among the oldest still serving ships in the Earth Alliance. It first entered service in the 2220's, and its kind saw action against the Dilgar and against the Minbari. It has twenty-two heavy twin plasma cannons, six heavy particle beams and two missile launchers. In contrast, the _Cotton_-class has almost no armament, and is designed to support the fleet vessels in deep space. It has four medium duty dual pulse cannons, and fourteen light pulse cannons, designed more for anti-fighter duties than for fighting other ships. I would not recommend leaving this vessel unguarded at any time. The _Cotton_s can bring up to three _Nova_s alongside at any given moment and re-supply all three in under twenty four hours. The _Cotton_ has a crew of 35, versus a crew of 250 for the _Nova_, but where the _Nova_ has hangars and troop berthing spaces, the _Cotton_ has twice the mass and twice the internal volume of a _Nova_."

"Like I said, Captain, you are one hell of a bargainer. I thank you for the additions to my fleet."

"Well, I'm not as good as all that, Admiral. General Lefcourt insisted on keeping the supplies aboard the _Cotton_, and all of the weapons, fighter and other equipment aboard the _Nova_."

"Oh I think I can find something to put in there."

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A day later, both the EAS fleet and the Centauri fleet had left B5 space to return to their home space. Lefcourt had many things on his mind, not the least of which was a different perspective of President Clark. Marrago had in his hands one of the technologies that the Centauri Ambassador had bargained for. The rest would be presented to the Centaurum and to the Emperor just as soon as Mollari had tied up some loose ends on the station. Even the Narn, dreadful creatures that they were, had acted magnanimously toward him, though he guessed he deserved no such feelings. The fact that they too were possessed of the same technologies of the Ancients that all of the other major younger races now held custody of never entered his mind.

The Vorlon and Shadow fleets had withdrawn as well, leaving three of each fleet behind, one vehicle housing their respective leadership, one escort vehicle, and one construction vehicle. The latter craft were responsible for constructing the pair of large beam weapons that they had agreed to give to the _Halsey_. It would be up to Major Carter and her engineering teams to figure out the appropriate interfaces and power systems. For now, and until such time as those interfaces and power systems were completed, the beam weapons were strapped and welded to the fore part of the _Halsey_'s structure, just forward of what was considered the main bridge, though in truth, _Halsey_ had several bridge decks.

A week passed before the weapons were completed and then it came time to say their good-byes and farewells, though in retrospect, Marius had already done so. He had given the two _Prometheus_ class battlecruisers to Sheridan in the hopes that he would assign one to Ivanova. Marius was aware that she had been tasked with finding the remaining First Ones for their upcoming fight and he was also aware that the power systems aboard the _Prometheus_ were of an Ancient design. That is to say, the signature of the energy patterns emanated by the drive systems would cry out to any First One and convince them that this younger race should at the very least be listened to. Marius had left an eyes only coded message for Sheridan and Ivanova aboard the ships. What did those messages include? Simple really.

The two battlecruisers, except for the fact they had Minbari weapons as their primary offensive batteries, were exact copies of their AIS counterparts. The same long and mid range torpedo and missile tubes were installed. The same gravimetric drives were installed. The same ring transport systems were installed. Each ship's medical bay had one sarcophagus and five stasis tubes. Marius had already briefed Sheridan on the other modifications, such as the inclusion of the force fields on these two ships. The last thing the message stated was the location of two additional dimensional mirrors, one on each ship, in an unused storage closet. The mirror should be used as a last resort escape device and it was tied directly to the ship. Should the ship be damaged and abandoned or damaged and captured, the mirror would self-destruct. It was a device of last resort, the ultimate escape pod.

In the week that construction had been ongoing, the eight escort battlecruisers had made the journey to the asteroid field of Kelowna more than a dozen times, filling the holds of the AIS _Nightingale_, the _Cotton_-class tender, to capacity. The _Nova_ had been named the AIS _Normandy_, but the two _WhiteStar-_class heavy cruisers were as yet without proper names. The weapons systems of the _Normandy_ had been replaced by Goa'uld plasma cannons, Colonial pulsars, and Tau'ri rail guns. A full compliment of _Starfury_ fighters had been built, along with all of the orbit-to-ground shuttles that such vessels normally carried. Major Carter's engineering teams went so far as to add several dozen turrets that would house SIM-182 Venom missiles, so that both the _Nova_ and the _Cotton_ would have a larger anti-fighter capability.

The lighter caliber weapons were removed from the _Nightingale_, and replaced with heavier duty rail guns. Both the _Nova_ and the _Cotton_ also got shield generators added to their arsenal of defensive measures.

The two _WhiteStars_ retained their weaponry, but were given the Ramos force shields to bolster their defenses.

The Centauri _Vorchan_-class attack cruiser, the _Centaurum_, also underwent a quick and dirty upgrade of its systems. Naquadah generators were added to the ion cannons already in place, increasing their power by two orders of magnitude. The sixteen twin particle arrays that were used as anti-fighter defenses were augmented by small caliber rail guns and Venom missile turrets. Twelve missile launchers were reduced in number to eight to add room for four additional mine launchers. Ambassador Mollari had been true to his word, and the day before they were to depart, a full crew of ninety Centauri Naval personnel had arrived at B5, along with sixteen hundred Centauri colonists. Carn Mollari, with a hasty promotion to Captain, was given command of the _Centaurum_.

Major Carter and her engineering teams had worked wonders on the destroyed remains of the Earth Force ships that had attacked Babylon 5 when they had first arrived in B5 space. From the debris scavenged, two _Omega_-class destroyers, and one _Hyperion_-class heavy cruiser had been built. A smaller _Olympus_-class corvette had been scrapped to provide the metals necessary to complete the _Hyperion_. One of the _Omega_s was christened the _Scylla_, the other, the _Charybdis_. The _Hyperion_ was christened as the _Bellerophon_. Gone were the rotating sections on the two _Omega_s. The use of gravimetric engines negated the need for rotational sections. With the three ships now entering service in the Alliance fleet, and with the massive amounts of berthing spaces now available on the three ships, the Centauri colonists were transferred to the _Charybdis_.

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_**Journey Day 53**_

"_Halsey_ to Babylon 5. How copy over?"

"Reading you just fine. Traffic has been cleared for your requested departure point. There is an ancient Egyptian saying on my Earth, _Halsey_. 'May God stand between you and evil in all the dark places you must walk.'"

"We have a similar phrase on our Earth. The only difference is in the first two words. Our phrase begins 'May the Gods.' Such a small difference between our universes. _Aveo amacuse_, Captain Sheridan. _Noo ani anqueetus_."

The communication from the _Halsey_ was cut and Sheridan looked at Ivanova each wondering what the final phrase had meant. But now they looked out at the _Halsey_ as the massive ship styled and began to move away from the station. The earlier Vorlon and Shadow escorts had left the previous day and now with their work done for the moment, the _Halsey_ too, was leaving. Sensors indicated the ship moving at better than eight-tenths that of light speed. Such an amazing drive system to move something that massive so easily. They watched now, from their long range ships, as the _Halsey_ opened a wormhole and an instant later disappeared into it. They stared for several moments at the screen, thinking that perhaps they would return. To have such a ship at their side when they went to fight the Shadows would be a good thing. But that was not to be. Sheridan looked up from his musings to see Kosh standing beside him.

"Ambassador?"

"_Aveo amacuse_, First Teacher."

"What does that mean and in what language?"

"_Aveo amacuse_. Good bye. _Noo ani anqueetus_. We are the Ancients. It is the language of the Ancients. The ancient circle is complete. What once was, now has been. The new circle has been restored. All is as it should be once again."

The Vorlon walked off, leaving a much confused Sheridan and Ivanova in his wake.

"It looks like things are back to normal, Captain. Or at least, the Vorlon Ambassador is back to talking in riddles."

"Commander, as long as I live, I doubt I will ever understand the Vorlons."

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_**Elsewhere on the station**_

"So is everything ok now?"

Squeaks and chitters. And something that sounded oddly like a wail.

"The First Teacher has left. Your prophecy has been fulfilled and it's back to business once again, right?"

This time there were no answering squeaks or chitters. This time, the Shadow Triad revealed itself and spoke plainly to Mr. Morden.

"Yes."

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_**AIS Halsey**_

"Mr. Jameson, sensor report if you please."

"Sir, no traffic within ten light years of our target departure point. All systems show green across the board."

"Thank you Mr. Jameson. Engineering, are you ready?"

"Ready sir. Full power available as you need it."

"Very well then. Let's get this show on the road. Power up the dimensional projectors."

Those on the bridge looked out to the stars as the fore mounted dimensional projectors fired a stream of charged particles at the fabric of space opening what looked like a wormhole to those that had heard of one, but unlike a wormhole to those that knew what one should look like. Instead of the silvery watery surface of a standard wormhole, this one appeared red and angry, like a maelstrom out of Hell. Then the ship entered it and all became white.

They emerged into a field of nothingness. There was nothing in sight. No stars. No planets. No dust. Nothing.

"Sensors?"

"Nothing sir. Not a damned thing."

"Uhm, Tok'Ra?"

"Yes Marius. I have done this. There exists in the many dimensions something that you can refer to as 'null space'. It is a pocket dimension between dimensions, a sort of dimensional rest stop, as it were. Here, time has no meaning. By your measure, it will seem as though time has stood still. You can spend as much time here as you need, to integrate the Vorlon and Shadow weapons. You will need them where you are going. I suggest you also integrate the Minbari crystalline hull plating. It will give you an advantage where you are going. You have all the time in the world here. I said once before that the projectors have the power to open the dimensional barriers a total of eight times. This will allow you to rest between the most trying of missions and will allow you to integrate any new technologies you acquire into the _Halsey_."

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Days passed becoming weeks. The Forge decks were busily churning out new hull plating for the _Halsey_, this based on the Minbari energy-refractive crystalline hulls used on their ships. The hulls had the ability to 'learn', that is if it took damage from a particular type of weapon, then after it repaired itself it would 'know' how to avoid more of the same type of damage.

Major Carter learned that the power requirements for the Vorlon and Shadow beam weapons were beyond enormous and she guessed that tying them into the ship's systems would be a bad thing. So she and her team designed a new generator deck and basically remodeled several sections of deck near where the weapons had been strapped and welded to the hull. Rather than make one large generator to power the four beam weapons, the engineering teams created one generator for each weapon and a pair of backup generators for each 'primary' generator. Her engineering teams designed and built the mounting brackets for the new beam weapons as well. Both the Vorlons and the Shadows had given to the _Halsey_ one pair of their best beam weapons. Sheridan had called the Shadow weapon a Slicer beam and the Vorlon weapon a Grand Cannon. So Carter had decided that two new weapons stations would have some degree of control over the weapons.

As each weapon had its own power source, each one could be fired independently of the other. This meant for a new fire control system on the Bridge. Carter's engineering teams also designed and built a moveable mount for the beam weapons and the weapons could now be traversed across an arc of sixty degrees horizontally, and vertically of five degrees. And rather than join Slicer beam with Slicer beam, the team decided to pair Slicer beam with Grand cannon. It would make for a devastating one-two punch against any enemy.

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	6. Persistence, Pt 2

_Persistence_

_Part 3 of the Potentials Series_

_Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible._

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_**Part 2**_

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It took the better part of three months, but in the end, all the time spent in null space had been worth it. Their stocks of naquadah and trinium had been depleted by a fourth and their supply of naquadria was down to half of what they had mined in the asteroid field near B5. But it had been worth it. The hull now sported new armored plating that was a last line of defense should the shields fail. Indeed the new armor plating was now evident on all of the battlecruisers as well as the majority of the fighter squadrons.

The _Nova_ class dreadnought, _Normandy_, had been fitted with the Ramos defensive shields, heavy caliber rail guns, and had both squadrons of its _Aurora_-class _Starfury_ fighters removed and replaced with F-302 _Mustang_ fighters. Racks were installed for launching breeching pods, and fully half of the _Halsey_'s compliment of infantry personnel were transferred to the _Normandy_. The _Omega_-class vessel _Scylla_ had gotten a makeover of another type, and it now bristled with anti-fighter weaponry. Some of the berthing areas had been sacrificed to make room for additional squadrons of fighters, so the ship now carried seventy-two _Thunderbolts_ instead of the usual thirty-six. _Charybdis_ was left virtually unchanged in terms of weaponry, but it was now home to the Centauri colonists. It had been a long and arduous three months, but now, as Marius gave the order to proceed, he thought they were ready.

And before he could lift a finger, there was a flash of light on his Bridge and there suddenly stood a man before him. He appeared to be wearing some sort of red and black jumpsuit, possibly a uniform of some kind.

"Should I even bother asking who you are?"

"That's not important young Ancient."

"Young Ancient? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"And a sharp wit too! Oh you'll be much more fun than that dullard Picard. That man really has no sense of humor."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I, mon Admiral, am Q."

"Q. Really? If you're Q, then where's M?"

"Ah, no, that would be the next dimension over."

"Ok, so you're Q and you have an odd sense of humor. Should I ask why you're here?"

"Very shortly you will be entering a region of space where there are several major powers. The United Federation of Planets. The Klingon Empire. The Romulan Star Empire. The Cardassian Union. The Dominion. There are others, but they are really of no consequence. Then there are the Borg."

"Borg? Sounds European."

"They are by no means European. The Borg were once a humanoid race, but in their quest for perfection, their quest for evolution, they latched onto the idea that assimilation would make them better than what they were. Quite literally, they believe that the sum of the whole is greater than the sum of the individual parts. Their belief is in the Collective, and they are trying to create a perfect, master race."

"Sounds a bit like Hitler. The ideologies are nothing new to me, or to anyone on this ship for that matter. We will deal with it. Can you tell me what technology was stolen from the Ancient's outpost world?"

"They call it technology oh-one-seven-nine. They came upon the outpost world early in their explorations, and it has become the First World of the Collective. The device known as 0179 was recently unearthed from a cavern that had been flooded with molten rock at the time the Ancients left. They are making great strides towards deciphering this technology, but they have not as yet been successful. The tech? Oh yes, I didn't mention that, did I? It is the cross dimensional portal the Ancients used to come here so long ago. If the Borg are successful, they will spread across the many diverse universes and they will become an unstoppable plague. But they are also in possession of a technology they call oh-one-seven-eight, and that is what you would call a ShipGate. They are presently using the existing Gate network the Ancients laid down so long ago. They have built lower powered conduit openings, but the major hubs, or where several Gate pathways come together are left over from the time of the Ancients. I fear that they will eventually learn how to build their own hub control points and at that point, even the Q would be unable to stop them."

"Then we must stop them. And we must erase all knowledge of Tech-0179 and Tech-0178 from their collective consciousness. Tell me Q, you compared me to someone named Picard. Do I want to know about this Picard person?"

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Federation of Planets. The man has no sense of humor whatsoever. A real bore. The Federation has had a rather short but eventful history. Born out of the chaos that was this Earth's Third World War. They use teleportation tech like you drink water; that is to say, it's an accepted form of travel for them. I see that you have two forms of matter teleportation aboard your ship! Excellent! I think it will give them something to think about. Of course, the main thing for you to remember is that the Federation, for the most part, are somewhat arrogant. Once they establish that you are from another universe, they will try to assist you in your journey home. But they will not, ever, negotiate with you for their technology. They believe it better not to share their advanced tech with a 'lesser' race."

"Ya know, that sounds an awful lot like a certain Tollan I know. Any idea where we'll pop out?"

"I daresay, if Tok'Ra plans it correctly, you will 'pop-out' in the midst of a battle between the Federation and its allies and the Borg. The Borg have been trying, and failing, for a number of years to take Earth. With Earth in their firm control, the Federation would fall. But the one thing in your favor, Child of the Ancient, is that your Quickening will not allow you to be assimilated into the gestalt that is the Borg Collective. You are well prepared to face them in battle."

"Wait! One final question."

"Make it a quick one?"

"You mentioned the odds that we would appear in the midst of a battle between the Borg and the Federation and her allies. How can we assure the Federation and her allies that we mean them no harm?"

"Leave that to me."

And in a flash of light, the being called Q was gone.

"Alright people, you heard the man. Odds are we'll be appearing in the middle of a battle zone, so let's do this by the numbers. Sensors, I'll want full scans just as soon as we're clear of the wormhole. Weps, I'll expect full shields and full charge to the weapons as soon as you're able. Engineering, full power as we need it. Medical bay, stand by for possible influx of casualties. Colonel O'Neill, as of right now, your new flagship is one of those two _WhiteStar_ heavy cruisers the Minbari gave to us. Teal'c will get the other one. Go down and get to know your crew, swap them out as necessary. Obviously I want you in a more protected ship in a firefight, and personally I can't think of a ship I'd rather take into battle than a _WhiteStar_. It just sounds right, to me."

"Do I get to name it?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"How do you feel about the _O'Neill_?"

"I can live with it. Go to your ship and start getting acquainted with it."

"Helm! Take us in to the vortex."

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_**Elsewhere**_

There were a few very brief flashes of light and suddenly two people found themselves in some sort of pocket of space, surrounded by soothing warmth and pleasant sounds. The fact that both of them were in sleep wear did not go unnoticed by either of them or by their benefactor, Q.

"Q! I demand you return me to my quarters aboard the _Enterprise_ at once!"

"Q, I had really thought you'd grow tired of wanting to see me in my sleep wear."

"Jean-Luc, Kathy. My two favorite Federation Captains. I'll make this brief as I'm sure you have far more pressing matters to attend to. Consider this a warning of things to come. The Borg are coming. In force. Sector zero-zero-one is where they will attack en masse. You have a few days to try and defend yourselves, but it may not be enough. Some friends of mine will appear. Try not to shoot at them. They really are on your side."

"How will we know who your so called friends are?"

"Ah, Jean-Luc, ever the doubter of my sincerity. I'll just say that the ship my comrades are on makes anything in the Federation look like a bath tub toy. That should be enough for you to not fire on them."

"Thank you Q."

"I wouldn't have warned you at all, but Q insisted that I warn his Aunt Kathy."

"Then thank young Q for me."

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The _Halsey_ emerged from the dimensional vortex just inside the orbit of Pluto and as soon as it had cleared the vortex, cloaking fields were switched on and the _Halsey_ promptly phased out of normal space. This was a technology the Colonials had given them back when the first keel had been laid for the _Immortal_-class Strike Carriers. The Quantum Shift Generator or QSG, phased a vessel slightly out of alignment with normal space. It allowed the vessel to be in effect invisible to the naked eye and to most sensors.

"Sensors, report."

"Sir, we are just inside the orbit of Pluto. Long range sensors indicate a large mass of ships near Earth. Heavy weapons fire on long range scans."

"Good. Helm, plot a course into the system. Maintain cloaking status."

"Course plotted and laid in sir. Standing by to execute command."

"Stand by one. General Kassim?"

"Aye, Marius. I await your commands."

"I want you to pre-deploy your troopers to their Damage Control stations. Also, deploy one hundred troopers to each of the following areas: engineering, medical, bridge, weapons decks, flight bays. Station squads of troops through the rest of the ship at your discretion. For now, and until I or someone else in the chain of command relieves you, I want you and your command staff to report to the Intrusion Countermeasures Bridge. Take control there. Be prepared for hostile boarding actions. The enemy we are facing may teleport aboard with absolutely no notice. Our intelligence indicates that they are a highly adaptive cyber-organic species so your weapons may have a very limited effect on them, possibly only three or four shots each. Here's a typical image of our enemy. Pass that out to your troops and keep them on high alert. One more thing. May Allah keep you strong, my friend."

"As God wills, old friend."

"Helm, execute course change."

It didn't take long for the _Halsey_ to traverse the distance to the inner system. The helmsman had done an excellent job in creating the course and the bridge crew were treated to breathtaking views of Jupiter and the Saturnine Rings and then there was the Asteroid Belt, and then they were in the inner system. Arrayed before them were so many different types of ships that is was nearly impossible to ascertain their number. They were pretty ships though. And they looked more like something one would expect in a cruise liner than in a warship. All of them did have what looked like openings for a hangar bay, but by the size of the openings, they guessed they were maybe for shuttles. Not for fighters. For the moment, the _Halsey_ would remain cloaked, as would her escorts. The _Nightingale_ would remain behind, protected by the _Cydonia_, _Tollana_, and the _Centaurum_. _Normandy_, _Scylla_, and _Charybdis_ formed up with the _Halsey_.

Aboard the _Enterprise_-E, Captain Jean-Luc Picard was busily trying to coordinate the Fleet into something that resembled less of a shambles than at present. Already a dozen small ships of the _Oberth_-class had been destroyed, their hulls drifting in space. But they were not meant to fight off an enemy like the Borg. They had been designed as science vessels, first and foremost and not as ships of war. When the Borg fleet arrived in Earth space, Picard had sent them in first to probe the Borg vessels. They had fallen quickly. In previous encounters with the Borg, Starfleet had put up a large battle fleet against a single Borg Cube. But this time, the Borg didn't send just one Cube. Their new found method of travel, the ShipGates liberated centuries ago from a deserted world, had enabled them to bring a large number of Cubes to Earth space. So while Jean-Luc Picard and the Federation might have only anticipated one Cube or two at the most, the twelve that appeared were not expected. Nor were the Borg Queen's Diamond, or the Interceptors, and the four very large cubes that Starfleet was tentatively calling Tactical Cubes as these had considerable more armor plating on them than the standard Cube.

In prior encounters that Borg had always announced their presence with what seemed to be a generic message about resistance being futile. This time, they had emerged from what the sensor officers were calling controlled wormholes and had promptly taken up position around the Queen's Diamond. Without so much as a 'by your leave' they had attacked en masse, obliterating the dozen smaller _Oberth_ class science vessels before dividing up in to smaller attack groups and attacking the Federation fleet. With their destruction, the Federation Council put out an emergency call to all of their member worlds and their allies. This was not a small incursion by the Borg. This was a make or break situation for the Federation.

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_**AIS Halsey**_

_**Main Bridge**_

The ship was as ready as it could possibly get. The battle before them loomed huge on the main viewer. From just inside the orbit of the asteroid belt, they detected the simultaneous destruction of several vessels. On the main view screen they saw the Borg, or what they were guessing were Borg, vessels appear. Various geometric shapes. Huge cubes. Smallish spheres. Diamonds. Rectangles. And then there the really huge cubes.

"Drop cloaking screens. Raise shields. Deploy battlecruisers. Order the _Normandy_ and _Scylla_ to take support positions to the fighter groups."

"Cloaking fields dropped."

"Shields at full power."

"Separation complete. Battlecruisers taking up assigned stations."

"Deploy squadrons."

"Weps, bring up main guns. Full power to all weapons."

From the vast hangar decks of the _Halsey_, and from the smaller hangar decks of the battlecruisers and the _Normandy_, fighters, bombers, and interceptors shot out into space. The bombers and interceptors formed up around Teal'c's _WhiteStar_, the _Free Jaffa_, while the fighters formed up around the _O'Neill_.

Their appearance had not gone unnoticed by the Borg nor by the Federation. The Borg responded in their usual manner.

"_WE ARE THE BORG. LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND POWER DOWN YOUR WEAPONS. YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS WILL BE ASSIMILATED INTO OUR COLLECTIVE. SURRENDER YOURSELVES TO US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE_."

On the bridge of the _Enterprise_ and on the bridge of the _Voyager_, as well as on most of the other ships of the Federation, the view of the massive ship sitting there made some hold their breath and others begin to pray to whatever Gods they believed in. The reports came in quickly. The ship was three miles long and very heavily armed and armored. The eight smaller ships that had detached themselves from the mother vessel were similarly armored. Then there was also two smaller ships moving in with what looked like small one- and two-man craft, and four more massive vessels that scanners indicated were a little over a kilometer and a half long. The crews on various Federation bridges had witnessed the deployment of hundreds of fighters.

"Fighters, sir?"

"Looks like it, Will."

"You suppose those eight smaller ships are support for the mother ship?"

"That would be my guess."

"But what about those other big ships? And those two smaller white ones?"

"I have no clue, Number One."

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"At the time I left the Collective, the Borg had no vessels of that type in their data stores."

"What do our scans show?"

"The hull is a combination of organic and crystalline composites. Beyond that, I am unable to ascertain. Their shields are reflecting the majority of our sensors sweeps."

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"A new player. What is your analysis?"

"Our sensor beams have been deflected. Preliminary analysis from visual observation indicates a high probability that the hull is an organic-crystalline combination. Shields are no match for our superior weapons."

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"_Borg vessel. This is AIS Strike Carrier Admiral Halsey. We will not surrender, ever. But you are welcome to try and assimilate us, if you can."_

The fight was resumed between the Federation ships and the Borg Cubes. The majority of the Cubes and their support ships were concentrating their fire on the Federation vessels. O'Neill and Teal'c took their squadrons to the aid of the Federation vessels and before long, space was awash with laser and phaser beams, and proton and quantum torpedoes and plasma bombs. The Borg Queen had drastically underestimated the _Halsey_ and only sent a single Cube and two Spheres to face the _Halsey_ and the smaller 'support' ships. She made the same incorrect assumption that Picard and his first officer had made; that the smaller vessels were strictly support vessels.

The battlecruisers separated into two groups of three and viciously attacked the Borg Spheres. For their part, the Borg vessels attempted to breach the protective force fields of the battlecruisers only to find that each shield vibrated at a different frequency and it took them some time to compensate for that factor. But by then, the combined firepower of the battlecruisers had destroyed one Borg vessel and had weakened another. But that was a smaller battle compared to the one between the Cube and the _Halsey_.

"Weps, fire full spread of Harpoons and Shipwrecks!"

"Firing missiles!"

"Damage control, report!"

"Minor damage to outer hull. Hull skin regenerating. Shields down by five percent."

"Sensors! Damage report on that cube!"

"Preliminary indications are that the enemy vessel is capable of regenerating its damaged hull faster than we can damage it!"

"Damn it! Weps, bring all forward facing guns on-line and give me one full salvo!"

"Aye sir. Transferring power to main guns now. And firing!"

When the _Halsey_ had begun her journey, the main guns consisted of Colonial pulsar cannons, and Immortal rail guns. Those guns had been augmented when they were in Babylon 5 space with Minbari fusion and neutron cannons, Vree anti-matter cannons, Centauri particle beams, Vorlon grand cannons, and Shadow slicer beams. Because the Vorlon and Shadow weapons drew more power from the ship, those weapons were the last two pairs to fire. But the others hit the Borg Cube full force and brought down that ship's shields in a brilliant flash of light. In the next instant, the Vorlon and Shadow weapons fired, and space was lit up for light years around as the Borg Cube was instantly incinerated.

A short distance away, the _Normandy_ and the _Bellerophon_ were facing down an armored Borg Cube, firing their primary heavy plasma cannons as quickly as possible. The heavy volume of plasma fire was having a limited effect on the shields of the Cube, but the reverse was only slightly true. The triply redundant shields, each set at a different frequency, were preventing the Cube's weapons from penetrating the shields to the hull. Her Captain ordered a full and continuous barrage of weapons fire from all guns and missile tubes. After some eight to nine barrages of combined weapons fire, the Cube's shields failed spectacularly and the naquadah enhanced fusion missiles impacted on the armored hull of the Cube. The resulting explosion rivaled that created by the _Halsey_ and the destruction of the Cube it faced.

The Borg Queen was of a different mind now. She pulled the majority of her ships away from where they were in battle with the Federation and moved them to the large vessels that had just vaporized a pair of Tactical Cubes.

On dozens of Federation bridges, the crews looked on as a pair of Borg Cubes were converted to just so much space dust. In the next instant they stared at their view screens as the Borg fleet disengaged from battling them to move to the vessels that called themselves _Normandy_ and _Halsey_. The move by the Borg had given them enough of a respite to move their more damaged ships back towards Earth where the Star bases in orbit there could assist them. The remaining ships advanced to engage the Borg again.

Teal'c's squadrons had given just as much as they had taken from the Borg, trading three full wings of interceptors and one of bombers for a Borg Cube. O'Neill's squadrons had taken a much higher casualty rate, and he ordered them to pull back to regroup. Teal'c also ordered his squadrons to pull back and regroup. Between the two of them, they would reorganize their squadrons to best assist the _Halsey_.

By now, the crew of the _Halsey_ found themselves facing down three of the Cubes, while another three went after the _Normandy_ group. Two remaining Cubes and a pair of Spheres had pulled back and were guarding their Queen.

"Weps! All guns fire as they come to bear!"

"Aye sir!"

"Sir, message from the _Kiev_. The battlecruisers are moving at high speed to support the squadrons. They will be out of contact with the Borg for a bit."

"Tell the _Kiev_ to pass this along to all battlecruisers. Re-arm all squadrons with stand-off weapons. As many as possible. Tell them to go after that group in the back. I think that diamond shaped vessel is their leader's ship. Take out its supporting vessels and capture the Diamond."

"Aye sir!"

"Engineering! More power to the shields!"

"Aye-aye, sir!"

Outside it was a battle meant for the amusement of the Gods. Beams of coherent light lanced out from one ship to another and where ever those beams touched, people died. Plasma bombs flew out from launchers only to impact harmlessly on Borg shields. Anti-matter cannons flashed incessantly delivering violent amounts of energy to the Borg shields. Neutron beams flashed orange and fusion beams flashed green, both bringing their deadly forms of coherent radiation at the Borg shields. Smaller particle beams fired continuously at the Borg vessels. All of these weapons firing in earnest to bring down the shields of the enemy vessels. And coming up from behind the Borg, the regrouped Federation warships, firing phased beams of light and projectiles that were almost too fast for the Mark One sensors aboard the _Halsey_ to track.

The space around the _Halsey_ was awash with deadly and violent forms of energy. Had an unshielded person been in the immediate area, they would have died from the intense radiation released by the various beam weapons. It was not a sight for the faint of heart.

A few light seconds away, the six battlecruisers were cycling the squadrons as fast as they were able to. Though only the _Halsey_ could service the larger bombers, the battlecruisers were able to quickly service the fighters and interceptors. The fighters were loaded with two Harpoons and as many Venom missiles as they could safely carry. The interceptors were loaded only with the Venom missiles, as these craft were not designed to carry the large anti-ship missiles. If ever Marius had need for the battleship he had left for the IDB to build, it was now, although the _Normandy_ was make a good accounting of itself. They had a brief respite when another Borg Cube fell to the combined might of the _Halsey_'s guns, and yet another respite when another two Cubes fell to the Federation vessels. Three Cubes still remained and to these the _Halsey_ was pouring out vast amounts of missiles, along with every beam weapon they could bring to bear.

The battlecruisers had finished loading the remaining fighters and interceptors with whatever weapons they had in their own holds. As one unit, the smaller armada centered around the _Normandy_, turned to make the short hyperspace jump to where the Borg Queen was watching the battle, safely, to her mind. As the _Halsey_ and the Federation vessels turned to deal with the three remaining Cubes, the smaller AIS armada met and dealt with the Queen's support vessels; two Cubes and one Sphere. There had been another Sphere a moment ago, but for the moment, it was missing from the scanners.

The battlecruisers had learned bitter lessons with their first engagement of this battle. The _Ryan_ and _Kelowna_ had been severely damaged and had limped off the field of battle, escorted by two squadrons of bombers. The bombers had depleted their stocks of plasma bombs, but still had smaller guns to protect the two wounded cruisers. Four decks aboard the _Kelowna_ were open to vacuum, the medical deck among them. As it was, the _Ryan_ was towing the _Kelowna_ away from the battle, though it too, was severely damaged.

The remaining cruisers now drove full bore at the Sphere, while the remaining squadrons flew at high speed toward the remaining Cubes. It was over before it could truly begin. The Sphere fell to the repeated pounding of the smaller Vorlon cannons mounted on the cruisers. As the Sphere was incinerated, the cruisers turned to assist the squadrons in their dealings with the Cubes. For their part, the squadrons were fairing better in this engagement than they had in the last one. The pilots were a bit more familiar with their enemy than they had been the first time around and now the tactics used by the Borg worked against them. Fighters and interceptors weaved in and about the Cubes at high speed, always at high speed. The great speed of the smaller craft was their only major advantage. And they distracted the Cubes long enough to allow the remaining bombers to drop all of their loads at once on the two Cubes. Before the cruisers could open fire, one of the Cubes disappeared in a flash of intense light. Now, small rockets shot out from the ships and attached themselves to the Borg Diamond, ensnaring it with cables made of trinium.

The _Normandy_, with small sections of her hull opened to vacuum, turned to face a damaged Cube that was attempting to intercede on behalf of the Diamond. A damaged Cube was making for the area where the battlecruisers had the Diamond trapped in a trinium cable net. The _Normandy_ came about to face the threat posed by the Cube and fired its banks of plasma cannons and particle beams at the target with some minor effects as the majority of the shots were scattered by the weakening shields. Captain Ivanov ordered a full power burst from the augmented plasma cannons on what appeared to be the weakest spot in the shields to be followed closely by the launching of six naquadah enhanced fusion missiles. The result was an explosion that rivaled the death of a small star. The death of that Cube came at the expense of fully half of the ship's _Aurora_ fighter compliment.

The remaining Borg Sphere had re-appeared on the scanners, far enough away from the main engagement areas to pose a problem to the _Nightingale_ and her escorts. Captain Mollari aboard the _Centaurum_ ordered the _Cydonia_ and _Tollana_ to deploy their fighters in support of the _Nightingale_, while his ship moved forward to intercept the Sphere. A beam weapon of some unknown type struck the _Vorchan_ shaking it hard, but otherwise not penetrating the shields, for which Carn Mollari was grateful. Shield power had been depleted severely, however. Beams of ionized plasma and particle rays lanced out from the _Vorchan_, striking the Sphere's shields but otherwise not damaging the ship. In the distance, the _Cydonia_ began moving up to assist the _Centaurum_, bringing her heavy weapons to bear on the target, but not firing as the distance between the two targets was still too great. The multiple rail gun and missile emplacements on the _Centaurum_ began rippling off their rounds at the Sphere, each round serving to deplete the shields of the ship a bit more. Finally, Carn Mollari ordered a full salvo of energy mines be laid in front of the advancing Sphere, followed with a full salvo of fusion missiles. The combined effects of the energy draining mines, and the fusion missiles brought down the Sphere's shields long enough for the ion cannons and particle beams to rake over the Borg ship, ripping out great chunks of the vessel. Seconds later, one of the ion beams struck true on the now exposed reactor systems of the Sphere, and the ship became just so much space dust and expanding gasses.

The _Halsey_ was not fairing well. The outer two shields had been destroyed, their generators melted to puddles of slag. The Borg had finally adapted to the Colonial heavy pulsars, and to the rail guns as their shields now deflected all attempts by those weapons to penetrate them. But the Federation were having some luck in that respect. Those aboard the _Halsey_ watched as small saucer shaped ships flew at one of the three remaining Cubes firing some sort of pulse laser that sensors indicated were of enormous power. The repeated blows from these small saucer-like ships eventually wore through the shielding of the Borg Cube and it blew spectacularly; pieces of the ship pinging on the remaining _Halsey_ shield.

It seemed as though the larger remaining Federation ships took a lesson from their smaller brethren and poured beams of laser light at the shielding of the next Borg Cube in line. Several projectiles of pulsating light were ejected from one of the ships and these flew straight at the Cube at a high rate of speed, easily piercing the shields of the Cube and detonating deep within the vessel, exploding the ship from within. _Halsey_ took advantage of the distraction caused by the Federation upon the final Cube and let fly with the Shadow slicer, cutting into the Borg Cube and ripping away great sections. A final shot by the Vorlon cannon obliterated what remained of the Cube.

"All sections, report!"

"Shields down to fifteen percent power. DC teams are working on third level field generators."

"The Borg Cube used some sort of beam weapon to cut through our remaining shield and into the hull. The hull is regenerating itself, however, decks twenty-eight through thirty-one, sections fifteen to thirty were opened to vacuum. Bulk head doors slammed down, but there are casualties."

"How many casualties?"

"Unknown at this time sir. We are working on those numbers, cross checking the duty rosters, to determine the losses. The infirmary is overflowing with wounded. They're putting the wounded in some of the smaller aid stations. All stasis pods are in use and the sarcophagi are at full capacity."

"Keep me informed."

"Aye sir."

"Sir, the Shadow and Vorlon weapons overheated with that final salvo. It will take some time to repair. The heavy pulsar cannons are fully operational. We expended two hundred and thirty-three Harpoons and three-hundred fifty-seven Shipwrecks. Rail guns are serviceable, but several laser batteries and rail gun turrets were destroyed and will need to be replaced."

"Assign Damage Control and Engineering teams to that. After the shields, weapons are the top priority."

"Aye sir!"

"Sir, report from the hangar deck. Sixty-two fighters, twenty-one interceptors, and sixteen bombers did not return. Search and Rescue is being launched now to look for escape pods. Also, the _Kelowna_ and the _Ryan_ took severe damage in the battle. The remaining cruisers are towing in a Borg vessel."

"Oh God. Yes. Launch all SAR craft at once! Get me full reports on damages suffered by the cruisers as soon as possible."

"Sir, _Normandy_ reports eighteen fighters available out of thirty-six launched. They report sixty-eight naquadah enhanced fusion missiles expended. Numerous rail gun and Venom missile turrets destroyed. They lost one generator to a power overload. Apparently, we didn't compensate for something in the newly installed shield matrix. _Centaurum_ reports minimal damage to shields. Eight fusion missiles, twelve energy mines and twenty-two thousand rail gun rounds expended, along with one hundred and eight Venom missiles. Captain Mollari reports that since his vessel is at slightly less than full operational status, they will remain on guard station around the _Nightingale_. _Scylla_ is Winchester on missiles. They ran through all of their stocks. _Charybdis_ is undamaged and is launching her fighters as CAP."

"Order the _Nightingale_ and its escorts brought up. Get them working on the _Ryan_, the _Kelowna_, and the _Normandy_ forthwith! Have _Nightingale_ begin an unrep operation on _Scylla_ as soon as possible. Get the Forge Decks working on replacements for the turrets that we lost."

"Sir! Shield generators have failed out right! Overload in the secondary power buses."

"Sir, we are being hailed by a Federation vessel. It's an 'Admiral Janeway', sir."

"Main screen please."

"Viewer on."

"Attention unidentified vessel. On behalf of the Federation, I thank you for your timely assistance in dealing with the Borg. We see, however, that you have sustained damages. Do you require assistance?"

"Admiral Janeway. I am Admiral Ramos of the Alliance of Independent Systems strike carrier _Halsey_. At this time, we are launching search and rescue craft to look for downed pilots and escape pods. Any aid you can give on that matter will be greatly appreciated. We have large numbers of wounded and our shipboard medical facilities are overwhelmed. Any assistance with this matter will be of great value to our medical crews. Beyond that, we will be sending a strike team to the remaining Borg vessel to deal with the enemy therein."

"We will send over medical teams to assist you. Stand by to receive them. We should like to assist you in capturing the Queen's Diamond, if possible."

"So that's why the other ships tried to protect that Diamond! A Borg Queen. Interesting and interesting. You may participate in the interrogation of the Queen, if you so desire Admiral, however, you can be captured by the Borg. We, can not."

"Engineering to Bridge!"

"One moment, Admiral Janeway. Engineering, go ahead."

"Main engines are off-line! When the secondary power buses blew, they sent a wave of energy cascading through the power distribution system. We're going to need to completely rebuild the Hyperdrive systems."

"Understood. Get to work on that at once. Bring up the gravitic reactors to provide emergency power to the ship. Helm, move us out of the way of traffic. Admiral Janeway? Is there someplace we can go to, to lick our wounds?"

"The Starbase in Earth orbit, sir. Do you require a tow?"

"I think we can get there. If we need a tow, we'll ask for one. _Halsey_ out."

"Channel closed sir."

"Helm, move us toward that large station in Earth orbit. Steady as she goes."

"Aye sir!"

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"Comms, get General Kassim and the strike team to the briefing room, ASAP!"

"Aye sir!"

"Alison, get your two cohorts and get to the briefing room, on the double!"

"On our way."

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_**Briefing Room 1**_

_**30 minutes later**_

The only people in the room were the Immortal members of the crew. Alex's strike team, General Kassim, Dana and Fox, Methos, Marius' bodyguard detail, and Marius himself. He looked at them all for a moment and prayed to whatever Gods he once believed in that Q was accurate in his intelligence, that the Borg could not assimilate an Immortal. Otherwise, the Borg would gain the powers of the Ancients; a power so immense as to be unstoppable.

"Alright, let's get this meeting underway. According to the Q entity, the Borg are unable to assimilate an Immortal, that our Quickening energies will instantly destroy the invading nanomachines they may inject into us. I don't know what that will feel like so in that respect I have no more information than you do. The Federation has identified the vessel we captured as belonging to the Borg Queen. From what Janeway said, the Borg Queen is their supreme leader, however, they do have other women, and I'll use the word women loosely, that can take the place of the Queen, should she fall in battle. Methos, as much as I'd like your sword arm with us on this battle, I think either you or I need to stay behind. So, flip a coin?"

"You go Marius. I'll stay. I have no desire to face robots that want to assimilate me. As the eldest of our kind, I think I will exercise that privilege."

"Very well, old friend. That makes us an even twelve going to invade and capture a ship with, according to Federation intelligence, close to eight hundred crew. Make sure your swords are sharp. Take their heads and then zat them three times. Let's make sure none of them will ever get up again to assimilate anyone else. Dana, Fox, I know that you are new to this whole 'being an Immortal' thing, and that you really haven't had much time to practice your swordsmanship, so if I may suggest, that we put each of you onto a different team. You'll carry back-up swords for your designated team mates, and you'll be responsible for vaporizing the beheaded Borg. Is that alright with you?"

"We'd rather work together, Dana and I, but we understand the need for caution. As long as Dana agrees, then I agree as well."

"Excellent. I'm going to suggest we break up into groups of three. Go to your quarters and draw whatever weapons you feel most comfortable with. Then meet me at the Asgard transporter room in half an hour. Methos, please stay for a moment?"

"Of course, Marius."

"Do your best to intimidate the Federation, yes? They seem arrogant to me. But maybe the first impression wasn't the best one? Also, assign someone to that dreaded of tasks, funeral duty. Have that person put together a list of the dead and we'll hold a brief ceremony at sunset tomorrow."

"A good idea. Give us time to publicly mourn our dead, and maybe show these Federation types that we are not as alien as they might think."

"Then you agree?"

"Yes. Watch your head, Marius."

"Always."

"Particularly since I have no desire whatsoever to be President of the Immortal Council."

"Smart ass."

"That's me. World's oldest smart ass."

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Marius met the others thirty minutes later in the Asgard transporter room. He was carrying a short sword like the kind he carried long ago in the Army of Rome. But this sword had a blade of trinium reinforced titanium, the same as his backup weapon, the one made for him specially by Hamza. His two team mates for this little jaunt into enemy territory would be Nefertiri and Kassim. They stepped into position and the engineering officer moved the Asgard crystals into the correct position to transfer them to the other ship. In a flash of bright white light, the three of them were gone. A moment later, another team of three would follow with each team being dispatched to a different part of the ship with orders to eventually meet in what had been tentatively identified as the Queen's chambers.

As they appeared on the Borg vessel, all three drew their swords. All three also had a pair of zat guns in holsters on each leg, and all three had a pair of backup swords across their backs. They expected to do much fighting and after some large number of fights, they had to expect their weapons to lose their edge. It would be something bad on their side as it would require much more strength to hack off a head with a dull blade. The ship was unlike anything they had expected. The chamber was open in the middle, with a great many catwalks all culminating in the same focal point, what Marius guessed to be the Queen's chambers. But to get there, they would have to fight their way through hundreds of Borg soldiers. Already he could see the first of many coming forward to meet them. It was Nefertiri who drew first blood with the quick slice at a Borg, taking its arm and a large portion of the shoulder.

Before they had left, Marius had drawn from the quartermaster a number of video cameras that were small enough to be almost weightless, yet robust enough to stand up to almost any abuse. The cameras were attached to the tactical vests they each wore and so they were transmitting the scenes of fighting and blood and carnage back to the _Halsey_. But the tactical officer aboard the _Enterprise_ detected the video transmission and began watching it for a few moments before calling it to the attention of his captain.

"Sir, I am detecting a video transmission signal between the away parties of the vessel _Halsey_ and the carrier."

"How many did they send to the Queen's Diamond?"

"I am detecting twelve individual signals."

"Main screen. Inform the fleet of the existence of the signals. Perhaps others will want to watch."

"Yes sir."

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The main view screen on the _Enterprise_, like on many other ships of the Federation fleet, broke up into twelve images, each one fed by a video signal from the members of the _Halsey_'s away party. They watched and looked on, some becoming sick at the wholesale slaughter of so many Borg drones, some admiring the fighting skills of these men and women who charged at the drones with only swords, hacking off limbs and heads before firing some form of electrical energy at the now dead drones and vaporizing the dead. It was a sight none had ever seen before and a sight none would likely never see again. There! One of the drones got close enough to inject one of the away team members with its nano probes. But to their shock and amazement, the man fighting the drone simply shrugged it off and continued down the corridor. From the camera images of another near that man, they saw various Borg implants pop up from the skin of the man, only to be fried by some sort of electrical discharge emanating from the man's skin. The implant fell to the floor of the ship, useless and inert.

Whoever these people were, thought Picard and Janeway, they could definitely fight. But the barbarity of the methods shocked both of them to their very cores. Aboard the _Defiant_, Commander Worf also looked on, but in admiration for their fighting skill. These people were fine warriors who most definitely understood the first rule of combat; never leave a live enemy behind you. But Picard had other thoughts. He saw these people as primitives. Their ship used some weapons that were exceedingly primitive and some that were very much in advance of anything the Federation had at its disposal. But that could be answered in any number of ways. They used one man fighter craft to engage the enemy, something the Federation had rarely and only recently done, though he did know of a few races that did use fighters. Their scans could not easily penetrate the hulls of those ships, but from what they could tell, they used some form of primitive fusion engines to power their vessels.

Janeway saw all of that and more. She saw a race that had gone into space not for peaceful exploration, but for war. All of their vessels were designed for warfare, something she abhorred in the extreme. No wonder Q considered them friendly! They were as much barbarians as the Q were. How could she hope to ever call these people trust worthy. But for Seven of Nine, standing at the engineering station on the bridge, her viewpoint was different. The names displayed beneath the video footage indicated whose camera they were seeing. The one designated as Marius had stacked up a large number of kills and was leading his team directly to the chambers of the Queen.

Aboard all of the ships in that section of space, the Federation vessels, the _Halsey_, and the now arriving Klingon and Vulcan ships, they watched as Marius and his team were the first to enter the chambers of the Borg Queen. The other teams were still fighting their way to the chamber. The Klingon and Vulcan vessels were few in number, as they were the closest to Earth when the signal for help was sent out by the Federation President.

"Greetings. Human. You should be proud of yourselves. You have killed so many of my Drones. I had not thought that possible."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I am the Beginning. I am the End. I am what all creatures in the universe hope to become. I am the Borg. You are a strong and resilient representative of species 5618, a race I had thought to be weak. But join with me, and I will make you perfect."

"Perfect? What is perfection?"

"Immortality. Eternal life and eternal time with which to seek out perfection. You can become more than you are, Human. You can achieve perfection."

"Hate to break it to you, your Highness, but your scanners seem to be off. You keep calling us Human, and perhaps we once were. But no longer. We have moved on to that level you seek. You seek Perfection? You believe perfection to be Immortality? My dear woman, we are Immortal. We are already your vision of perfection. But I am far from perfect. I have many flaws."

"This can not be! You are a mere human! You can not be perfection!"

"Watch this, your highness."

Marius drew his sword across his chest, while Nefertiri and Kassim drew their own swords across their arms or legs. Deep cuts formed on their skins, their blood welling up and dripping on to the floor. But the Queen watched, as did hundreds of thousands of crews on the Federation and Klingon and Vulcan ships. They watched as arcs of electricity danced upon the chests and arms and legs of the first team to breach the Queen's chambers. They watched as the deep cuts, some deep enough to allow the bone to show through, healed before their astonished eyes. The arcs of electricity danced across their bodies, healing where it touched, and pulling the blood back within them.

"Mere trickery! You can not be perfection! Only the Borg can achieve this! Join with us or perish!"

"Enough of this word play, your majesty. It is time for you to die. And when you are dead, we will take what we want from this ship, namely the location of your bases and your home worlds. We will go there and take what you have taken from us. And we will not be polite about it. We will do this by force of arms. You, my Queen, have taken technologies that did not belong to you. You took these things and you are trying to utilize them. And if you do so, this universe will never be safe from you. None of the universes will be safe from the disease that is the Borg."

"We have taken many such technologies. They were rightfully ours!"

"The properties of the Ancients were not yours to take. They belong to us. And now we want them returned."

"Ancients? You are not of species 5618. You are of species 003! You are the perfection we seek! At long last, we have found you! Join with me, join with the Borg, and all the myriad universes can be ours together!"

"I think not. I have no desire to rule, no desire to lead. I wish only peace and long life for my kind. But you have interfered with that desire. As such I must correct the mistake. Now, your crew are dead or will be shortly. You will surrender to us so that we may take what is rightfully ours."

----------------------------------------

"Captain, the amount of information present in their databanks would be of immense use to Starfleet!"

"I agree, Will. We must do what we can to take that information."

----------------------------------------

"Admiral Janeway, the information available to the Queen is immense. It would be of beneficial value to have that information in the hands of the Federation."

"On that we agree, Seven. But how to obtain it from these, what did he call themselves, Ancients?"

"If they are truly from Species 003, as the Queen has speculated, then they would be most formidable allies to the Federation. If they are not, and I do not see how they could be, then we must endeavor to obtain the information in any way possible."

"What do you know of Species 003, Seven?"

"As the numbering implies, they were the third species that the Borg attempted to assimilate. As a whole, the species vanished before any attempts could be made to assimilate them. The Borg had only the word of other races as to the nature of Species 003. Immortals. All of their race were Immortal. It became the quest that the Borg sought for so long. The Queens have always equated perfection with Immortality."

"But what about those deep cuts with their weapons? Could that have been some sort of illusion?"

"There is not enough data to determine either way Admiral."

"Keep working on it."

----------------------------------------

"Well, your highness? Are you going to surrender?"

"The Borg do not surrender. A message has already been sent. More will come. You will be assimilated. The Alpha quadrant will be assimilated. I offer you one last chance to join with me, of your own free will."

"Free will. Interesting concept. It doesn't really exist. But it is a false belief that comforts us, doesn't it? I will not join with you."

----------------------------------------

And so saying, Marius pulled up his Zat gun and fired one burst into her. She had not anticipated the move and her shield, though active, was not effective. The Borg had not yet learned to adapt to the weapon. The Queen fell to her knees, the pain obvious to anyone with the gift of sight. He fired a second burst, and she collapsed to the floor, quite dead.

"Marius to _Halsey_. Get me a stasis pod!"

"On the way!"

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The assembled Federation, Klingon, and Vulcan vessels watched as a brilliant white light flashed into existence and when it had faded, a strange pod like device lay in its wake. The others picked up the Borg Queen and placed her into the stasis pod and a moment later, the white flash returned, only to show no pod where once it had stood. A quick scan determined it to be a teleportation beam of some kind, but one that was unknown to any of the inhabitants of the Alpha quadrant. Moments later, the last Borg drone had been beheaded and vaporized by the away teams from the _Halsey_. Shortly thereafter, large away parties began beaming over to the Borg vessel from the _Halsey_. All were well armed, but scanners indicated the weapons were projectile in nature. For some reason, their scanners failed to pick up the personal shields all were wearing.

Aboard the Federation vessel _Bataan_, various officers looked at one another and came up with a quick plan. They could take this vessel from these others, quickly and efficiently. Their weapons were no match for Federation phaser rifles, and the way they were milling about gave the impression that these were merely security guards of some lesser type, sent to watch over the ship as it was towed to the _Halsey_. The _Bataan_ had not taken part in the battle as it was not a warship per se. Rather, it was a troop transport, a member of the _Istanbul_ class, designed to teleport large boarding parties to a target. The Captain of the _Bataan_, signaled his intentions to the fleet commander, and was given the authorization to carry out her plans. The fleet commander went so far as to assign the _Chosin_ and the _Corregidor_ to the task as well. Moments later, the Federation Marines began teleporting over to the Borg Diamond.

The first encounter was near the engineering spaces, where a guard detachment from the former 12th ACR was set up. They were there to protect the engineering teams that were pouring over the Borg systems, learning as they went. The Federation Marines came down the corridor, four abreast, firing their phaser rifles as they went along. For a brief moment, the guard detachment was stunned. To see any soldier walking in a line abreast was not only idiotic, but the epitome of a death wish as well. Then they saw the weapons fired and felt the impacts on their shields. They thanked God and Allah for a moment, before picking up their own Intars and firing at the intruders. A radio operator behind them was on his gear, sending out a warning to all other detachments that intruders were aboard.

For their part, the Federation Marines knew something was seriously wrong when their weapons fired on heavy stun were not effective at all. A few managed to change the settings to their highest setting and even managed to get off one or two shots, before they realized it was all for naught. The force shields the others were wearing prevented those beams from spearing the person inside. Then they heard the sound that no Federation Marine had ever heard before, at least outside of a historical holopic. The sounds of projectile weapons fired on automatic. The first ranks of soldiers fell easily.

Within minutes of receiving the intruder alert, other guard detachments had encountered and neutralized the invaders. More appeared and more were stunned into unconsciousness. The _Halsey_ was informed and a moment later, a very angry Methos was ordering a communications channel opened to all of the Federation vessels in the area.

"Federation vessels. The men and women you sent to try and take the Borg ship from our custody have failed. They are now in our brig. But I do not understand why you have attempted to do this. Did we not help you turn back the assault against your home system? Did we not also suffer a great many wounded and dead because of this? Yet you boldly tried to take the ship from us. Well, you have failed. You must understand how this will be interpreted by our forces. We have understandably raised our alert level and all of our weapons systems are now painting your vessels with targeting beams. If you so much as fire a thruster, you will be destroyed."

"_Halsey_, I assure you that I did not give any such orders! I will find the people responsible for those orders and see that they are punished accordingly."

"See that you do, Admiral. In the meantime, we will keep your unconscious personnel in our brig. They had been disarmed and have been given POW uniforms. Whatever wounds they had have been fully treated. There were no casualties."

"I must thank you for that. You are far more civilized than I had thought."

"You and I, Admiral, we may look the same, but it is obvious we are not. Perhaps then we should begin anew? Someplace neutral I would assume?"

"I am more than willing to go over to your ship, provided I am allowed to bring some of my officers?"

"I think that will be acceptable. Pick your officers and stand by for transport, in say, ten minutes?"

"That will be fine. Janeway out."

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"I know what you're thinking Chakotay. You want to come with me. And I want you there. Pick a few others to join us and include the Doctor if you will. I'd like him to check over their prisoners."

"A good idea, Admiral. Who do you think ordered the boarding action?"

"Tuvok, open a channel to the _Enterprise_."

"Channel open."

"Captain Picard?"

"Admiral Janeway. Is there something wrong?"

"Did you order a boarding action on the Borg Diamond?"

"I did. The weapons evidenced by the video transmissions from the _Halsey_ away team indicated they were primitive in nature. Projectile weapons, if you can believe it."

"Actually, I can believe it. However, Commander Pierson aboard the _Halsey_ has informed me that all of the boarding parties were captured and are now be held as prisoners of war aboard the _Halsey_. I will be going to their ship shortly to negotiate for their release."

"That's impossible! They are primitives! How could they have captured over fifteen hundred Starfleet Marines?"

"Fifteen hundred! Are you out of your mind, Picard!"

"I did what was necessary for the good of the Federation. To give us an equal edge against the Borg, we must know everything about them!"

"And it never occurred to you to simply ask the _Halsey_?"

"Do you really believe they would have shared that knowledge with us?"

"It's irrelevant now. I will try to repair any diplomatic damage you might have caused with your unauthorized orders. Janeway out!"

"That woman does not understand the Borg the way I do, Number One. They will not give up simply because we destroyed the ships they sent here. They will keep coming and keep coming until they have either assimilated us all or destroyed us all. She can never understand the Borg they way I do! I have been Captain of the Federation's flagship a lot long than she has been in Starfleet, and that woman has the nerve to talk to me that way!"

"She is your superior sir."

"Not my superior, Number One, mere a woman of higher rank."

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"_Halsey_ to _Voyager_. Are you and your party ready to transport over?"

"We are Admiral. If you will give us the coordinates, we will beam right over."

"Not necessary Admiral. We have a lock on you and your party now. Mr. Jameson, if you will, sir."

"Aye-aye Admiral."

The grip of the Asgard transporter beam took them by surprise. By comparison, their own teleporters seemed primitive in the way they disintegrated the body. It took longer, by their reckoning, than this unknown type of beam. From what they could tell of their journey, it appeared to be closer to whatever form of transport the Q used than anything like the Federation. Less than five seconds after the order had been given, Admiral Janeway and her party of six were standing in the Main Conference room aboard the _Halsey_.

"Admiral Janeway and party. Welcome to the AIS _Admiral Halsey_. On behalf of myself, my crew, and the Alliance, I bid you greetings on the hope that we may come to an amicable agreement concerning the events of this day."

"Admiral Ramos. Allow me to introduce the members of my party. This is Chakotay, Captain of _Voyager_. Commander Tuvok, his First Officer; Lt. Commander Belanna-Paris, Chief Engineer; Lt. Commander Annika Hansen, Tactical Officer; Lt. Commander Tom Paris, Helm Officer; and our ship's Doctor."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I didn't catch your name?"

"He's just the Doctor."

"Ah, I see. Sort of like 'Who's on first', then?"

"I don't follow you?"

"Never mind. Doctor, I would guess that you are here to examine the POWs to ensure that they are in good condition, yes?"

"I am."

"Very well. Excuse me a moment while I call for a guide for you, Doctor. Major Scully, please report to the Main Conference room. Major Mulder and Doctor Jackson, please report to the Main Conference room. Sierra Golf One, report to Main Conference room."

"Please, Admiral Janeway, have a seat. That extends to all of you. My command staff will be here shortly."

Five minutes later, they were ready to begin.

"Major Scully, while I think it would be beneficial to have you stay here, I would like for you to escort the Federation Doctor to see the POWs. He will be examining them to verify their conditions. After which, feel free to give him a tour of our medical facilities."

"As you say, Marius. Doctor, if you would follow me?"

"Admiral Janeway, honored guests, allow me to present my staff. Colonel Jack O'Neill, commander of our Fighter and Interceptor wings. Teal'c, commander of our Bomber wings. Major Samantha Carter, Chief Engineering Officer. Major Fox Mulder, Chief of the Diplomatic team. Doctor Daniel Jackson, Senior linguist and diplomat. My executive officer is not here as he is presently on the bridge overseeing our damage control efforts."

"Admiral Ramos, why did your CMO call you Marius?"

"Marius is the name I am most comfortable with as it is the name I have borne for millennia. But it will suffice to call me Admiral Ramos, if that is your wish."

"Millennia? How can that be?"

"The Borg Queen called us Species 003. I will assume from that comment that I or others like me have previously encountered the Borg. However, I believe she was referring to the race we call the Ancients. I am not an Ancient, though in time I may evolve to that level. Perhaps in another half million years or so. For now, I am quite content to live as a corporeal being. The Borg believe that Immortality is perfection. That is as big a lie as ever I've heard. Immortality is far from perfection. The years get quite lonely. I've seen so many of my mortal friends and wives die from disease or old age or war, that I would gladly give up my Immortality if only to be mortal for a moment or two."

"He is telling the truth, Admiral. My implants are indicating he is indeed a very young member of Species 003."

"But you look Human, Admiral Ramos?"

"And you find that puzzling? There is a truth in that appearance. Once, long ago, the Ancients were like us, or like you. They were human. Species 5618 in the terminology of the Borg. As time passed they grew. Their technology surpassed all in the known universe until they became as they are today. Immortal and non-corporeal. But while they could travel throughout the universe without the need for a ship, they found that universe to be a cold and lonely place. They had evolved to a higher plane, but they wanted something they could no longer have. They wanted children. We, Immortals that is, were created in their image. We were created for a specific purpose. To live and grow, to serve and protect, to nurture and guide. To defend with every ounce of our being, the humans of our world."

"But that doesn't explain how you look like us?"

"I was getting to that. At the dawn of time, there was a single race in the known and unknown universe. The Progenitors. They grew and matured. They explored the universe around them and found it to be a lonely place. No life, on any world they encountered. Though it must be said that the worlds they encountered were at a stage where life could be planted. And this they did. The Ancients were created in their image, to watch over the universe and their creations when they at long last passed beyond the veil. Just as we were created to take over for the Ancients when they too passed beyond. And so my dear Admiral, we come to Earth, where the Progenitors saw a world capable of sustaining a life not unlike their own. It was there, that they created the Ancients. And it was there that the Ancients seeded the early oceans with what would evolve to become the Human race. So just as Immortals were created in the image of the Ancients, and Ancients were created in the image of the Progenitors, so were you created in the image of both the Ancients and the Progenitors."

"Admiral, I believe Captain Picard and the _Enterprise_-D, on star date 46731.5, came across a holographic message embedded in the genetic material of several Alpha Quadrant races. That message is available in our archives and I believe it verifies the Admiral's story."

"Excellent Seven. I shall have to peruse that archive when we return to _Voyager_.""There is more, Admiral. My scans of these people indicates a different quantum signature. They are not from our quantum universe."

"Care to explain, Admiral Ramos?"

"Your crewmember is quite correct, Janeway. We are from a parallel universe. However, the history I gave you of the Progenitors is true for this universe as much for our own. The Ancients came here millennia ago to establish an outpost world from which to explore this universe. In time they left that world, vowing to return, when certain problems at home had been resolved. It is unfortunate that they did not return to this place. The Borg discovered that world and the systems on that world sent us a message. We are here to retrieve the technologies taken from the Ancient's outpost. If we need to destroy every last Borg in the universe to insure that they will never discover how to travel between quantum universes, then so be it. We have their Queen in our brig. We have engineering teams going over that ship out there. When our repairs have been completed and our dead buried and honored, we will take this fight to the Borg and we will take what is rightfully ours. If you wish to accompany us, you may do so."

"That may be an option for tomorrow, but for today, I think it best if we agree to a mutual exchange of trust?"

"You seem like a likeable person, Janeway. I think I shall trust you, for now. Perhaps it will work better this time. Major Carter, would you please escort their Engineering officer about the ship? Show her whatever she asks about."

"Aye sir. Commander Paris? If you will follow me?"

"Admiral, the name 'Marius' sounded Roman. Is it?"

"You have a perceptive mind, Janeway. In my universe, and two millennia ago, I was known as Gaius Marius, Pro Consul of the Roman Empire."

"Are there any others of your kind aboard this vessel?"

"Lt. Phillipson to the Conference room."

"You'll meet one in just a moment Admiral. Commander Paris? You are the helm officer for _Voyager_? Does that mean that you are also a pilot?"

"Actually Admiral, most Starfleet officers are pilots."

"Ah, I see. Do you fly fighters as well?"

"We have only recently begun to use one man craft the way you do, Admiral."

"A pity really. Colonel O'Neill? Would you care to show Commander Paris around our flight deck? Maybe give him a hop in one of the fighters?"

"Yeah sure youbetcha! Come along Commander. I need some extra flight time anyway."

"Sir! Lieutenant Phillipson reporting as ordered sir!"

"At ease, Alex. Admiral Janeway, does your history have a young Macedonian Prince, son of King Philip of Macedonia?"

"You mean Alexander the Great? Yes. We do. A young man prized for his intellect and skill in battle."

"Then may I present you Alexander, son of Philip, of Macedonia."

It was the same when any Earth military member, with the clearance, first met Alex. Jaws dropping to the floor and dazed and confused looks on their faces as the implication of who the young impish looking fellow was. Standing at barely five feet tall, the man bore the scars of battles hard fought and won. He had fought long and hard before his first death, and the evidence was plain on his body. After a few moments, Janeway and her remaining officers recovered sufficiently to continue.

"I wonder how many others there are like him?"

"Not many. Immortals, by our very nature, are more prone to spectacular deaths, than mortals. It is a hard life we lead, but we survive and we grow, and our power grows as we age. That power is what separates us from mortals. It is what allows us to reject the Borg implants, and what allows us to heal any wound or any infection. It is, the very essence of our being."

"I would love to talk more with you about this, but first I must ask you to release the Federation POWs in your brig."

"Of course. Why don't we do this. Let us pair off, one of your officers to one of mine, and allow my officers to escort you around the ship, show you anything you wish to see. Teal'c, would you please escort their tactical officer about the ship? Dr. Jackson, please join them as well."

"Of course, Admiral Ramos. I shall be delighted to escort the tactical officer. If you would follow me please? Daniel Jackson, you will join us."

"Coming T."

"Major Mulder, why don't you take care of Captain Chakotay's tour, and I will escort the Admiral."

"Sure thing Marius."

"Alex, if you would, please show Commander Tuvok around the ship. Answer any questions he might have. If you can't answer them, find someone who can in each section."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Marco showed Janeway everything aboard the _Halsey_. They ran into other touring pairs here and there and each time Janeway asked her officers what they thought of this ship, the answer was different. She could see that for herself though. On the one hand, the ship seemed as if it were hurriedly built, yet some of the systems seemed as though the technology was very old and much in advance of their own. Despite all the medical technology, the Federation could not bring back anyone from the dead. Yet these people could.

Starfleet vessels relied on a single force field of massive power. These people had three such fields surrounding their ship, each one on a vastly different frequency than the other with the inner shields more powerful than the outer shields. Starfleet relied on a single type of matter teleportation, whereas these people had two very different methods in use. The one they called the Asgard transporter had been the one she had been beamed aboard with. From her discussions with Admiral Ramos, it seemed that the Asgard beam was used for precision beaming while the other was used for beaming large numbers of ground troops into hostile areas, as the rings would serve to protect the personnel for a short moment after they reintegrated. She found that they used a number of different methods of achieving faster than light travel and foremost among these was something called a Hyperdrive. Using a Hyperdrive, the ship entered a parallel dimension called hyperspace, wherein distances between two points was vastly reduced. Apparently the laws of physics were not as stringent in hyperspace.

The travel method that shocked her the most, however, was the Stargate. Not for ship travel, she learned, but for moving vast numbers of personnel and equipment across thousands or millions of light years of space almost instantaneously. Controlled wormholes. Starfleet had been researching wormhole technology for decades with little success of creating a controllable wormhole. But here these people used and accepted it as fact. They had a similar concept to the Stargate called a ShipGate, that enabled ships such as the _Halsey_ to traverse vast distances via a controlled wormhole as well. Because of the mass, she was told, the journey was not as instantaneous as with a Stargate. It could actually take ten minutes or so to cross a distance of a hundred million light years.

In terms of their weapons and computer technology, they were perhaps four hundred years behind the Federation. Even the NX-01 _Enterprise_, Archer's famous first command, had better computers. The only weapons that might have given Starfleet pause were something the Admiral called a Grand Cannon and the Slicer beam.

But it was the regenerative hull plating that made her sit up and take a real close look. The hull plating was a mixture of organic and crystalline components. It could learn from any damage it took and if it received the same kind of weapons fire in the future, it would accept up to ninety percent of the energy from that weapon and channel it to shields or weapons, or whatever system needed the extra power. Ramos explained that the shields were the first line of defense against any attack, with the regenerative hull plating a second line of defense, laser ablative armor as a third line, and reactive hull plating as a final line of defense.

All in all, Janeway thought, there is much we could learn from one another. But the Prime Directive must be obeyed! But did it apply to a race from an alternate universe? Starfleet had always believed that the Prime Directive applied to all equally, but in this case she was unsure. Could she afford to risk exchanging technology with them? Could Starfleet afford to pass up the chance to learn how to control a wormhole? Did bargaining for wormhole tech negate the Prime Directive? These were questions she did not have answers to. These were questions that Admiral Nechayev and the others within the fleet command structure would have to answer before any further steps could be taken.

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_**Observation Deck**_

_**AIS Halsey**_

_**Journey Day 145**_

The men and women in the Observation lounge were in full dress uniform. The visiting dignitaries from the Federation, from the Klingon Empire, and from one of the Federation member worlds; Vulcan, were also in their equivalent of full dress uniform. Along one long window stood the members of Alex Phillipson's Immortal strike team. Their uniforms reflected their age and their _Saber_s were shined to perfection. It was a solemn day. They would be bidding a final farewell to the two hundred and thirty nine souls that had perished in the attack on the Borg.

There were many who could not attend the ceremony, and many more who chose to honor their fallen comrades in different fashions. But in the end, it was all the same, whether a spoken word or a raised drink, it was all the same. A final farewell to honor those who had fallen in combat.

"Their guns, their lasers and plasma beams, have been forever silenced, and the blood these honored soldiers shed has returned to the stars from whence we came. They believed in something so precious, so perfect, that they were willing to die for it. They are gone now, but they will never be forgotten, so long as we remember them and their deeds.

"They were honorable men and women, these brave souls that fought for a people not unlike themselves. They fought so that those of us that remain could continue our mission, so that we would one day have the strength to defeat our enemies. Our enemy has not forgotten us. While we explore other worlds and other galaxies, our enemy at home grows stronger. One day soon, they will come for us, and for our part, we had best be ready. When the Stargate was re-opened a decade ago, we found ourselves in a universe filled with worlds whose peoples were like us. Indeed, they are us, for the Goa'uld took their ancestors from our world, enslaved them, and brought them to thousands upon thousands of worlds. But ten thousands years ago, our ancestors rose up and threw the yoke of Goa'uld oppression from our backs. They cast the Goa'uld off our world, and that enabled us to live in seclusion from the universe, for ten thousand years.

"Now, that we have returned to explore the universe, we must do for our brethren, what we did for ourselves so long ago. The Goa'uld must be cast off, their chains and their powers can no longer oppress us. For those that fell in battle a few short days ago, the chains that bound them here have gone.

"Eternal Father, King of birth, who did doth create the Heavens and the Earth, who bids the planets and the stars, their own appointed orbits run. O hear us when we seek thy grace, for those who soar and peril in outer space. Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen."

The honor guard that was Phillipson's strike team turned as one and pulled their _Saber_s as one. They held them in salute as the rocket launchers, beneath the observation deck, let fly one by one, the empty caskets that were mere symbols of the departed. Teal'c's bomber wings flew one escort for each casket as the caskets made their final journey into the center of the sun, while O'Neill's fighter wing flew the missing man formation for their missing comrades, with a single fighter pulling up and spiraling away from the flight as it passed in front of the Observation Deck.. Throughout the ship one could hear, the wailing of bagpipes as they played a soul rendering rendition of Amazing Grace. A final tribute to those who had left their mortal coil and passed beyond the veil.

"That was a very moving ceremony, Admiral Ramos. I must commend you on the precision of the honor guard, and of your flight crews. Pray tell, what was the formation your fighters flew?"

"That was the missing man formation, Admiral Nechayev. It signals to those on the ground or aboard a ship, that losses were incurred during a recent battle by holding a place of honor for the missing comrades. The origins of that formation have been lost to history, but it is rumored to have been flown by British aviators during the First World War, when Manfred von Richthofen was interred."

"I find it utterly amazing that your own history and ours could be so similar yet also so different. That you and your people come from an alternate Earth is something our scientists have proven endlessly to us over the past few days. Simply put, your quantum signatures are not in sync with those of this universe. That proves to us the validity of your story. Yet I still find it amazing, especially since you are one of a handful of what you call Immortals. To have seen so much history is what amazes me so."

"Admiral Nakamura. The history that I have seen, well, when I saw what was happening it did not occur to me that it would become history. It is interesting to me to witness certain events and then to see what the historians make of those events. It is written that history is recorded by the victors, and that is certainly true. For instance, in a war on my Earth, sometime in the middle 1800's, there is a battle recorded by the winning side as a great victory against an overwhelming force of well trained soldiers. The losing side recorded that victory as a massacre to them. A senseless battle where hundreds of cadets at a military academy were slaughtered by the invading soldiers. The average age of the cadets was something like twelve or fourteen years of age, while the average age of the victorious soldier on the other side was something like thirty years of age. A hell of a difference in the way history is recorded simply because one side or the other won a war, don't you think?"

"Indeed. Such is often true. Tell us please, Admiral Ramos, what are your plans for the moment?"

"For the moment, Admiral Paris, our plans center on repairs. This ship can build all of the parts necessary to repair the other ships in our fleet and can build more fighters for our squadrons, but it will take us some time to train up more pilots for this mission. Once we've accomplished this, we will move off to attack the Borg wherever they may be. As we speak, the _Nightingale_ has her mobile docking arms extended and the bays are occupied by the _Ryan_ and the _Kelowna_. Without her services, I daresay the repairs to our fleet would take far longer than we can afford."

"You plan to attack the Borg in their home systems?"

"That is exactly what we plan to do, Janeway. They have items that rightfully belong to us. We plan on taking those items back, one way or another. But listen, while I have all of your attentions, might I make a comment on our recent misunderstandings?

"Whether the orders to beam troops over to my ship were legitimate or not is a moot point at the moment. What matters to me is that had my troopers not been using stun weapons, odds are that many of your Federation Marines would be dead. Whoever taught them battle tactics should be taken out and publicly flogged!"

"Why would you say such a thing? From my reading of the after action reports of their various commanding officers, the did everything by the book!"

"Then, might I suggest Admiral Paris that the book is in error here. My own troopers reported the actions of your Marines with disbelief. Marching up a corridor three or four abreast is a good way to get oneself killed in an awful hurry. Standing in front of a doorway as it opens is a certain way to get killed. If those are the tactics taught by your instructors at your academy, then I'd have to wonder just how you've won so many battles and wars."

"I sense a challenge here, Ramos. Perhaps you'd care to place a small wager on the outcome?"

"What did you have in mind, Paris?"

"A squad of say ten to twelve of your best troopers against a squad of the same size of my best Marines. I pick the time, you pick the place. Stun weapons only. Agreed?"

"That is agreeable. And to give you a fair shot at winning, I will not allow the Immortal strike team members to participate in this exercise. To do so would be unfair in the extreme."

"Nonsense, Ramos. I think Starfleet could agree to have one or two of your Immortals on your team. Shall we say a week?"

"Sounds fair to me, Paris. What is the wager, however?"

"Well, either way, we will be seeing one another at the negotiations table so that is not up for grabs. But, if the Starfleet team wins, then you will allow the Federation to join you when you leave for Borg space. If your team wins, then you can ask one favor from Starfleet. That favor may include asking for one specific technology which we will grant you outright, regardless of the outcome of the negotiations. Agreed?"

"Agreed. Night attack alright with you?"

"That is agreeable. Are your people familiar with urban combat operations?"

"That is also agreeable. Night operations in an urban environment. Should I assume that this will take place in one of your holographic imaging chambers?"

"We have a ship that has several holographic decks that can be merged to provide a very large environment for this test. To make it fair to your people, I think we can allow them to move in, say, one day in advance and make the Federation team the aggressors."

"Fair enough, Admiral Paris. I'll contact you as soon as I have the team put together. Shall we agree to twelve members?"

"Agreed."

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The next day, Admiral Ramos was in the main Conference room with the unit commanders of all of the special operations teams aboard the _Halsey_. British and Australian SAS, Navy SEALs, Army Rangers, and a Russian Spetsnaz team were all aboard the _Halsey_, each eager to show the others of their small but aggressive club just who the better man was.

"Gentlemen, the reason I've called you here today is that our Federation hosts would like a demonstration of our battle prowess. They seem to think the actions taken by the security troops aboard the _Halsey_ during the attempted invasion by Federation Marines were flukes. They seem to think their Marines are better than anything we can put up. So, they've agreed to a small challenge. Twelve of our best against twelve of their best. Night time operations in an urban combat environment. What I need from you is the name of one volunteer from each of your units, the very best your units have to offer. I'd like to see a composite team put together to kick their arrogant asses all over the sector. They've even agreed to give us a sporting chance by allowing our team to go in a day early and to play the defending team against their aggressor team. As an added bonus, they don't seem to think that the Immortals on this ship are anything to brag about. The only member of the team that I will assign is Lieutenant Phillipson, and only because his mind is a tactical database the likes of which none of us have ever seen."

"Admiral, while I was aware that Phillipson was an Immortal, I am unaware of who exactly he was in history, though he does look very familiar."

"I'll allow Alex to answer your question Captain Duggray."

"I look familiar to you?"

"You do. You're an Immortal so I'll venture to say I've seen you in one of my history books, though I can't place the face to the period in history."

"I'll give you a couple of clues. I was most famous approximately three hundred years before the birth of Christ in the country of Macedonia."

"Macedonia? Around 300 BC? Oh, that is so very familiar! But I can't seem to place it. Oh. I got it. Alexander the Great?"

"Should I have given you less of a hint?"

"You're Alexander the Great?"

"I am, Captain Duggray. But more recently, I've been through basic training courtesy of the US Air Force. If you think basic training was bad for you, imagine it with a Drill Instructor that not only knows you're an Immortal, but also knows that no matter how hard he pushes you, you won't die permanently under his tutelage! With a dozen soldiers like him, I could have taken all of the known world when I was first alive. All I ask is that you do not reveal my true identity to any who don't need to know. I'd rather not have to deal with all the paparazzi when we return."

Within a few hours of the initial meeting, the special operations unit leaders had compiled a list of ten soldiers, drawn straws for the unit commander position, and had presented the list to Marius. Marius then had a chance to speak with the unit commander, one Major O'Connell of the SAS.

"So, Major, you have everything you need?"

"There are a few special items I'm having the Forge deck make up for us, but beyond that, yes, I do believe we have everything. And since they were dumb enough to believe we needed a day to familiarize ourselves with the terrain, then we'll take it. We'll set up defenses so thick with stun grenades and flash bangs, that they'll have no idea which way is up or down. I've got two snipers on my team and with a spotter assigned to each sniper, I think we can set up a nice kill zone for the Red team."

"Excellent work, Major! If there is anything you have need of, don't hesitate to ask!"

"Well sir, I was given the impression you might know where I could lay my hands on some rather old Scottish whiskey?"

"Win this for the _Halsey_ and I'll give a case of that whiskey to each member of your team, and a dozen cases to you sir!"

"Well, with an enticing reward like that, sir, you can count on a victory!"

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_**Journey Day 153**_

The Holoship was in orbit near the _Halsey_ and on its decks was a recreation of a well known scene of urban combat from the Federation-Dominion war, so recently won by the Federation. In the historical battle, the Federation had won easily, having out-thought their Dominion opponents. But rather than Dominion soldiers here, the _Halsey_'s elite unit would play their part. The Federation elite unit would make two very simple but devastating mistakes in this encounter. They considered their enemy to be the Dominion, not fellow humans, and they expected 24th century tactics, not 20th century.

The Observation deck of the Holoship looked out over the vast imaging chambers of the ship. Monitors on the walls played images beamed from various cameras that had been pre-positioned to take advantage of the coming battle. The Federation had planned to use the images obtained as a training aid at their Academy, to show that the might of the Federation should never be underestimated. The Federation High Command was so sure of victory, that there was an advanced class from the Academy aboard the ship, observing the upcoming battle. Various instructors on tactics and infantry operations were aboard as well, to watch the events.

Marius and Captain Duggray watched as the Federation team broke up into four three-man teams and proceeded to enter the engagement area. The Fed teams advanced slowly, each providing cover fire for the other, but again, they were expecting a different set of tactics. Their first encounter of the engagement was with a set of well placed trip wires and motion sensor activated devices. In less than five seconds, the Fed team had been reduced by half, with one team stumbling into a set of trip wires with stun grenades and flash bangs on the ends, and the second Fed team walking into a claymore kill zone. For the purposes of the exercise, the claymores had been refitted with a two part stun effect; a high intensity flash, and an OC burst. The high intensity flash of light blinded the Fed team, as their eyes had adjusted to the low light conditions. As they grasped at their eyes, trying to rub away the bright spots, the second part of the claymore cocktail took effect and they were surrounded by a cloud of pepper gas.

As the three man team lay writhing on the ground, sniper shots came from the distance and stunned the three with Intar shots. Other than the three sniper shots, not a single man on the _Halsey_ team had yet fired their weapons. The six remaining Fed team members took a look at their stunned comrades and vowed to win the engagement. The split up again into pairs and proceeded to leap forward rather quickly, covering the terrain, but not seeing it. They fired indiscriminately at their surroundings, hoping for a lucky shot that would disable one of their opponents. They had no way of knowing that the pair of snipers and spotters were three kilometers away. They should have been aware, however, of the remaining opposition team units moving up behind them; units moving not on the ground, but via the burned out shells of buildings in the urban environment.

The Fed team paused for a moment, to take a good look at their surroundings. But it was a pause out in the open and not under any sort of cover. They still failed to realize that there were snipers on the opposition team. Two more of their members went down in quick succession, as the snipers had decided amongst themselves which man to target. The four remaining Federation Marines dropped to the ground as their comrades fell, sweeping the immediate area with their motion sensors and looking for targets. Their hand held scanners were of little use however, as they relied primarily on passive emissions. Knowing that they relied on such passive measures, the team from the _Halsey_ were all wearing thermal covers that betrayed no heat around them, making them appear to be inert lumps of debris. That would prove a costly mistake for the four Fleet Marines. As they rose to a kneeling position in preparation to move out again, four shots rang out and the four remaining Marines fell to the ground. The encounter had lasted less than thirty minutes with no casualties for the _Halsey_ team and complete loss of unit for the Federation team.

"I never would have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. I thought our troops were better than this! I think they all need a refresher course in infantry tactics, especially since the best of them could not even cause so much as a single loss to your troops. I want to meet your troops, and ask them first hand what my own people did wrong. And I want my people there to hear their version of the events."

"Of course, Admiral Paris. Ensign, please inform Major O'Connell and his team that their presence is requested on the Observation deck."

"Aye sir!"

"Major O'Connell reporting as ordered sir!"

"Stand easy, Major. Admiral Paris and the rest of the Starfleet Command Staff would like to hear your version of the events."

"Aye sir! Admirals. If that was your best team, then they need to be sent back to basic training. Their mistakes were childish and their maneuvers were moronic. Even though I'd read the after action reports made by the security forces of the _Halsey_, I still had a hard time believing that any unit would try to advance in a line abreast. Now that I've seen it with my own eyes, I wonder what and how you train your people to fight. Coming at an unknown enemy in line abreast formation is utterly stupid and a very quick way to get yourself killed. Had this been a real engagement with real live ammunition instead of Intars, you would be holding twelve very unnecessary funerals. You'll get more details in the after action reports from myself and my team, along with a critical analysis from Lt. Phillipson. You realize Admiral, that I had to stop Alex from laughing? He could not believe the tactics your people were using. Had they been more alert and aware of their environment, odds are good that you would not have lost half of your force in the trip wire and claymore kill zones. But they walked in boldly as if nothing would dare to attack them. Only once did they attempt to take any cover and that was after my snipers had taken out two more of your men."

"Where were your snipers anyway?"

"Positioned in buildings, about one hundred feet off the ground and about three kilometers downrange from the outer ring of trip wires and claymores. As soon as your team hit that outer ring of traps, my team moved in to take position along their flanks and to their rear."

"May we assume that this Lieutenant Phillipson you mentioned was the Immortal assigned to your team?"

"That would be correct."

"And might we speak with him?"

"He's standing behind you, actually."

"You are Lt. Phillipson?"

"Reporting as ordered, sir!"

"You look very young to have all this experience your Admiral Ramos credits you with."

"Immortality can be awkward like that. I've heard of Immortals that were less than fifteen years of age when they transitioned to Immortality. I was the ripe old age of thirty-one when I joined the Immortal ranks. As they say, Admiral, appearances can be deceiving."

"Indeed. But while you may have lived a long and adventurous life, how can we be certain that your analysis of this engagement is worth anything beyond what Admiral Ramos claims it to be?"

"Because of who I was before I awoke into my Immortality. I do not know how similar your history is to ours, but does the name Alexander of Macedonia mean anything to you?"

"He was son of King Philip of Macedonia. He was a great military leader for his time."

"It is the same in my world. Only I didn't die as the history books suggested I did. And I would have been much happier as a man of science and advanced education than as a warrior. But I was born into a time when the knowledge of warfare was more important that the knowledge of philosophy. And when my father was killed, I could do naught but take his place as the King of Macedonia."

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A few days later, Marius was sitting in his office, going over the daily reports concerning the repairs to his fleet, when Major Carter entered his office.

"Good afternoon, Major Carter. How can I help you today?"

"Have you had a chance Marco, to go over the footage taken from our first encounter with the Borg?"

"Not really. I find I don't have much time anymore to do the things I used to like to do. Was there anything specific in the record that should catch my attention?"

"It took my staff and I a while to piece together the audio and video records of the engagement, to try and identify the types of weaponry used by the Federation and to catalog their effectiveness. One weapon in particular caught our attention and that is what they term a transphasic torpedo. We're not entirely sure how it works, but suffice to say, it emits a force field of sorts that phases it slightly out of our dimension, allowing it to pass through anything. They used it with remarkable accuracy against the Borg to the point where usually only one or two shots was required to destroy a Borg cube. My team guessed that the weapon phases out of our dimension just after launch and phases back in when it is inside of the target."

"Sounds like something we should ask them for during the negotiations next week."

"Actually sir, Major Mulder indicated to me that the odds of obtaining weapons technology from them is on the order of slim to none. They have something in effect called the Prime Directive that prohibits them from interfering in the natural progression of a civilization. How that applies to a civilization from another dimension like us, is anyone's guess."

"Wonderful. So they are like the Tollan?"

"That would be as good an approximation as any other. But there is something else you should be aware of, and that is that we really don't need their transphasic technology."

"But you just said…"

"Yes sir. But there again, a member of my staff pointed out the obvious to the rest of us. We already have transphasic technology is the form of the Colonial QSG. Applying that tech to our conventional missiles, we could have the equivalent type weapons in short order. They wouldn't be as fast, but then again, they wouldn't have to be."

"Excellent work Major! That will give us one hell of an advantage the next time we meet the Borg. And the item I'm working on might give us even more of an advantage. Please take a look at this design. It is for what I am tentatively calling a corvette.

"For the corvette, I looked at the one from the Earth Alliance database provided to us in the last universe. It's approximately the same size as our _WhiteStar_s, but I daresay easier to build. The existing design has particle beams, rail guns, missile racks, and pulse cannons. I figure we can update the rail guns, install force shields, and install smaller versions of the Vorlon and Shadow guns on that ship. Four main guns, either all the same, or a mix of the heavy weapons we currently field, and brimming with defensive rail gun turrets and anti-matter short range packet launchers. But I'll leave the final specifications to you and your staff. I'm not asking that you build a fleet of them either. I'd hate to put all our eggs in one basket as it were. But even a pair of them would be helpful in our next encounter with the Borg."

"I'll get my team working on this forthwith sir, but truthfully, we were already tossing around some ideas like these."

"Perfect! Then I'll let you get back to work, cause unfortunately, I have an ever growing pile of reports to fill out."

"Have fun, sir!"

"Out!"

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_**Starfleet Headquarters**_

_**San Francisco, Earth**_

While Major Carter and Admiral Ramos conversed high above their heads, the highest ranking Admirals in Starfleet, along with a few invited guests, were meeting to discuss the upcoming negotiations with the _Halsey_ fleet. The Federation had for decades sought a way to create a wormhole, but it was a technology that eluded them. Sure, they had a wormhole in the Bajoran system, but it was an artificial construct created by alien entities with ties to the Bajoran people. It was also the only stable wormhole in known space, or at least in the space known to the Federation and its allies. Still, if they could achieve the technological breakthrough required to create a stable wormhole at any given moment, it would mean that travel of any great distance would be nearly instantaneous. It was something they desperately wanted. Hell, it was something all of the major powers in the Alpha and Beta quadrants wanted, and something the remaining powers of the Gamma and Delta quadrants would want as well, not to mention the Borg either.

And now it had fallen, almost literally, into the laps of the Federation. But to trade for that which they wanted so desperately would mean a violation of their own rules. In particular, it would mean a violation of the Prime Directive, that sacrosanct of Starfleet rules regarding the non-interference of another civilization. It was true that the Prime Directive generally referred to non-warp civilizations, and perhaps in that specificity they had an opt out for their rules. The civilization represented by the AIS _Halsey_ was non-warp. Yet they had achieved other methods of faster than light travel. But the methods they used violated several laws of physics in this universe so as to make the Federation scientists wonder how they were viable.

By all that they knew, warp travel was the only method of traveling at FTL speeds. The principle was simple. Encase a ship in a warp field bubble that allowed the ship to reduce its mass relative to the universe outside the bubble, therein defeating Einstein's principle of FTL or EMC2, where the energy required to achieve FTL travel was equal to the mass of the object times the square of the speed of light. As the mass increases, so does the energy required. So for an object with one kilogram of mass, the energy required to achieve FTL was X where X is an achievable amount of energy. But to understand what X means for an object the size of the _Halsey_, it would be equivalent to the amount of energy produced by Sol in a year, but used every second. It was a phenomenal number, and if these people had found a way around that, well, that would be something for the scientists among them to discuss and debate.

"But Jean-Luc, can we afford not to give them what they ask for in exchange for the knowledge of creating stable wormholes?"

"Frankly, Admiral Janeway, I do not see that we can afford to bend the rule of the Prime Directive on this one occasion. To do so would bring up the eventuality of bending the rule in the future. We have succeeded in staying the course on so many occasions, Kirk notwithstanding, of not giving in to our desires. Admiral Kirk was a different man in a much different Starfleet. Archer was much the same, if I read early Starfleet history correctly. Archer, was the first to go out and explore new worlds and to contact new civilizations. He was followed in kind by Kirk, who led us to victory in so many engagements and wars. But that was an era that we are trying to forget. How can we face our descendants, knowing that we gave in to a baser desire?"

"While true that Kirk and Archer were different types of officers than what we have today, those were different times, Picard. Archer was from a Starfleet that predated the Federation. He didn't have the weight of hundreds of member worlds to back up his statements. Hell, even the Vulcan's were merely acquaintances at the time, not real allies. But Kirk was a man of a different sort. He was a leader at a time when the Federation was already in place. His exploits and his missions were what laid the foundations for so many treaties with so many civilizations. He did try to enforce the Prime Directive on several occasions, but it was a wilder _Galaxy_ then, and Federation and Starfleet technology was primitive, even by our standards. I doubt that either of those two men, if alive today, could become officers in our modern Starfleet. But they are not germane to our discussions, are they Picard?"

"No, Admiral Janeway, they are not. What is relevant is our desire. Our desire to obtain a technology that I am beginning to wonder if we should want or not. To have that in control of the Federation only would make us the target of every spy in the known universe. Is that something we want? I should think not!"

"Please Jean-Luc, control yourself. The question we should be asking ourselves is what they will want in exchange for that technology, not whether we should obey the Prime Directive. I think, in this case, that the Prime Directive does not apply."

"Admiral Nechayev! How can you say that?"

"Admiral Paris. Think about it for a moment. What does our Prime Directive state? No Starfleet personnel or any Federation citizen or representative may interfere with the normal development of any alien civilization or culture or may give them any superior technology which that alien culture is incapable of handling wisely. We know that this applies to pre-warp civilizations equally as well with warp civilizations. But if we look at this matter closely, General Order Number One only refers specifically to warp or pre-warp cultures. That the culture represented by the _Halsey_ uses an altogether different method of FTL travel might be the one way with which we can safely state that the Prime Directive does not apply."

"All this knowledge and you look for a loophole?"

"Q!"

"Hello Kathy. Young Q wanted me to say 'Hello' for him. But I see that nothing has changed with you Primitives! Still arguing over points of law that have no relevance to the universe at large. Do any of you realize what is at stake here? Do you? No? Then I will tell you! You see things in so few dimensions and you grasp so little, but the gist of the matter is life as you know it.

"Yes, the Borg are very bad. But you are very good! It is a battle that will always happen, no matter the universe. Good is always destined to battle evil; sometimes to win, and sometimes to lose.

"The Borg are the very antithesis of your Federation. You primitives have a unique ability to build communities and therein lies your strength! Yet you fail to realize that potential and that is a sad thing indeed. The Borg assimilate all they touch and those assimilated cultures have very little hope of ever returning to what they once were. But the culture represented by the _Halsey_ is facing an enemy vastly different from the Borg. Their enemy doesn't want to assimilate them. No, their enemy wants to annihilate them! Their enemy has already achieved what the Borg so desperately want; perfection! Perfection via artificial sentient life. And if that weren't bad enough for them, the enemy of the Tau'ri has formed an alliance with the enemy of their Colonial brethren. The resulting alliance will overwhelm their defenses and will plunge their universe into an eternity of what you so naively call Hell. Slavery and genocide versus assimilation. You tell me which of the two you would prefer? I can arrange for you to meet their enemy and knowing you primitives like I do, you'd probably extend a hand in peace and friendship rather than outright destroy them like you should!"

"Their fight is not our fight, Q! We have enough problems with the Borg and we don't need to add others!"

"Katie, Katie. I had so high hopes for you. Very well. Observe! I will give you a glance into their universe, for it is within my power to do so, and you will see for yourselves what the threat to them is. You see before you two creatures, humanoid in appearance only. The one in the white robes calls himself Count Iblis, though he is known by many names, the most familiar to you would be Lucifer. The other calls himself Anubis.

"Once, long ago, Anubis was a blended human. What the Tau'ri call a Goa'uld. But a thousand years ago, in their timeline, he was banished by his own kind for being too cruel and sadistic, which is an ironic thing. The symbiote within the man attempted to ascend to the plane of the Ancients, but they rejected him as they sensed within him, the same type of evil they had sensed within Iblis hundreds of thousands of years ago. Now he maintains his shape through the usage of a primitive dimensional armor. He wears a long black cloak with a long hood that covers his face, though to look at his face would mean your death. He is the epitome of what you have in your historical archives of the Grim Reaper. Let us now listen in for a moment or two."

"_Your new Kull warriors are quite effective, Lord Anubis. But with a little cybernetic manipulation, you could increase their potential as warriors a thousand fold. There would be no more need to force grow the bodies or to have your Queen sire symbiotes without their genetic memory. Together, we can build the perfect warrior and the primitive humans of Earth will be unable to stand against us!"_

"_You speak wisely, Iblis. I shall take your counsel under consideration. My Kull warriors are bred for strength and loyalty, not for their intelligence factors. Perhaps a blend of your Cylon technology with my Kull technology could yet give us the perfect soldier with which to conquer this universe once and for all. Then, and only then, can we continue this operation in all the limitless alternate universes with ease. No one will be able to withstand us! Now or ever!"_

"And this, you see, is your greatest threat. Not just to your precious Federation, but to all life in this universe. What the Tau'ri are attempting to do, in their limited capacity, is to prevent Anubis and Iblis from coming here. If Anubis and Iblis become as powerful as they hope to be, then neither the Ancients nor the Q Continuum will be able to stop them. The combined powers of what you so euphemistically call evil would overwhelm all in their path. And frankly, I have no desire to repeat warfare the likes of which the Q are capable of, as I'm sure Admiral Janeway will attest to."

"Thank you Q. You've given us much to contemplate."

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An hour after the meeting on Earth, Picard and Janeway were standing in the Admiral's office aboard the _Halsey_.

"Please! Sit. May I offer you anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee for me, would be nice."

"Tea for me. Earl Gray if you have it."

"Steward! Two coffees and one Earl Gray tea, please."

"Aye sir."

They chatted amiably for a bit and a few moments later the beverage service had been delivered. With a wave and a nod, Marius dismissed the Mess Steward and then they were able to get on with business.

"So, Captain. Admiral. I must admit I did not expect to see anyone from your Federation for at least a few days. I rather suspected you would need at least that long to formulate your plan for our proposed upcoming negotiations."

"Truthfully Admiral, I had hoped we would not enter into negotiations with you. Personally I find you to be a primitive example of an era in our own history that is best forgotten. But some matters have come to our attention, courtesy of the Q, and we find it is now in our best interest to assist you wherever possible."

"Captain Picard. I've really no idea why you have insisted on taking such a hostile approach towards us. But rather than dwell on that I would much rather like to know what the Q have told you to change your mind."

"Q showed us images from your universe. Here is the file. We'll give you a few moments to look it over."

Picard and Janeway were anxious to observe his reactions to the file. But he had a poker face that would put a Vulcan to shame. At least until the part about the new and improved Kull warrior came on. Then his face showed abject horror. After a moment he composed himself once again and turned his attention back to them.

"I see. This is not good news at all. We'd had only one encounter with a single Kull warrior prior to our departure, and it was a formidable weapon of war. The assault team poured plasma fire, projectile fire, and high explosives onto the target and it merely shrugged them off as you or I would to a bothersome mosquito. The only advantage we had to date was that there were problems in gestating the humanoid hosts for the warrior parasite. These problems caused the host body to deteriorate over a short period of time. If, however, Anubis is successful in tying cybernetic technology to his new warrior class, then I fear we will have a bold new enemy when we return home. An enemy against which we will be hard pressed to fight. May I keep this recording? I'd like my engineering and science teams to look over it and begin formulating tactics against it."

"Of course. That brings up the other issue we are here for. Fleet Command has decided to advise the Federation President in the affirmative in terms of a technology exchange. Quite frankly, the science of wormholes that you seem to take for granted is a sort of Holy Grail for us. Any information towards that end would be greatly appreciated."

"Any information we have on the subject, whether Stargate or ShipGate related will be handed over freely. But as to which technologies we will ask for in return, frankly I'm unsure. Perhaps a comparison of all of our technologies is in order? I would gladly extend an invitation to any scientists or engineers of yours that wish to examine our ships in more detail."

"Very well then. There is one additional request we have. Some of the infantry instructors were aboard the Holoship when your team wiped out our team during the simulation. There has been a request forwarded by them to the head of Starfleet Academy to ascertain the possibility of a guest speaker or two for the upper class of cadets. The Admiral at the Academy requested the tactician for the exercise be allowed to speak to the cadets, but if any other of your Immortal crews wish to come along, then the offer is extended as well."

"I shall have to ask Alexander if he would like that honor. But I for one, would like a tour of your Academy, and perhaps I could be convinced to speak to a class or two. I shall have to ask my XO if he would be interested."

"Your Executive Officer is also Immortal?"

"Yes. All of the Immortals on the ship, if you added our ages together, would not equal his. He is the eldest of our race and a direct descendant of the Ancients. The remainder of us are results of experiments conducted by the Ancients."

"And how does that feel, knowing you were created in a petri dish?"

"It feels good to be alive. I have seen so much history and so much death, that one would think mental defects might become a problem. And they are at times. I've seen generations come and go. I've seen the best and worst that humanity has to offer. There have been moments of excitement, moments of depression, moments of joy, and moments of sadness. But all in all Captain Picard, it has been a good life, and for that, I am grateful."

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_**Journey Day 164**_

It was a week before the Forge Deck could begin building the necessary hull materials for a new class of ship that would now accompany the Alliance fleet and her _Prometheus_-class escorts on their mission. Major Carter's team had interfaced well with the Starfleet teams of engineers and scientists. An early result of that interaction was that the new corvettes, as they were being called, would have both hyperdrives and the Federation Warp drives. For longer distances, the Hyperdrive had no equal. But for shorter distances, the warp drive was preferred as it was less energy intensive.

For many of the Starfleet vessels, the warp engines provided the majority of power. However, the larger vessels also sported fusion generators that provided additional electrical power to the ships' systems. And while fusion generators can be quite powerful, they were also quite a bit larger than the naquadah generators. This then became the first technological exchange between the Tau'ri and their Federation counterparts.

The Federation Council had alerted its member worlds and neighboring governments that they would be launching an offensive against the Borg in their home sectors. Within days of this announcement being made, two battle groups appeared in Federation space; a Klingon group, and a Cardassian group. A similar group was expected from the Romulans, in an unprecedented act of understanding the common goal. The Romulan Empire, though not at all friendly with any of the other major powers of the Alpha Quadrant, all too well understood the implication of the Federation plan, and the consequences of its failure. The added bonus that the Borg were now in possession of very advanced technologies made all parties equally aware of the danger and the possible benefits to their own empires.

Federation space in sector zero-zero-one became a sight that none could ever remember prior to this time. There was a complicated mixture of ships and crews in abundance. As things were progressing, there was a dire need for a face-to-face meeting between all interested parties. Since neither the Klingons, the Cardassians, nor the Romulans could say anything bad about the Tau'ri, they acquiesced to a preliminary meeting aboard the _Halsey_. Only one representative from each empire would be allowed aboard the _Halsey_, and each was allowed one aide, though each pair would also be assigned one pair of Immortals as guards. But at last, the five major powers of the Alpha Quadrant and their new found Tau'ri guests were in one room. For the _Halsey_, Marius had asked Mulder to accompany him, as his psychological insights would serve him best. The Federation had chosen Admiral Janeway as their representative and she had in turn asked Seven of Nine to accompany her. The Klingons would be represented by Chancellor Martok, with Ambassador Worf as his aide. The Cardassians had sent Gul Tinkar along with an aide that was, according to the Federation, a member of their Obsidian Order. The Romulan Empire would be served by Admiral Sela, as the Emperor thought it best to have a half-Human/half-Romulan emissary to this most unusual meeting. She was joined by a member of the Tal Shiar as her aide. The Obsidian Order and the Tal Shiar were both intelligence organizations within their respective governments; both had the power to do as they pleased within their own empires.

Mulder look out at the sea of faces before him. He wondered, not for the first time, if Marius had placed too much faith in him for this crucial meeting. It was one thing, he thought, to profile a human. Quite another altogether to profile an alien. As preparation for this meeting, he'd gone over the data that had been provided to his team by the Federation. He'd already guessed that even the Federation records were incomplete on the subject at hand, as even in his own universe, no one government could know absolutely everything about another government. He vowed to observe the initial greetings and the initial discussions quietly, to best gauge the responses of the others present.

For his part, Marius felt that he was in over his head. But he felt a light tingling sensation and realized that Tok'Ra, whom he hadn't seen in quite a few days, and Q, were hovering in the background, unseen by anyone else in the room. It gave him a bit more confidence than he felt. As he began the introductions, he decided to introduce himself by his true name.

"Greetings to all. I am Admiral Gaius Marius Augustus, Commander of the AIS First Fleet, President of the Immortal Council, and representative of the Alliance of Independent Systems. My aide for these series of meetings if Major Fox Mulder, Chief of Diplomatic Relations. I bid you welcome to the AIS _Halsey_, and I hope that our time here will be productive."

"Greetings. I am Martok, Chancellor of the High Council of the Klingon Empire! My aide is Worf, son of Mogh."

"On behalf of the Cardassian Union, I bid you all greetings. I am Gul Tinkar of the Cardassian Defense Forces. My aide is Tukat."

"Hello to all. I am Admiral Kathryn Janeway, Representative of the United Federation of Planets. My aide for these meetings will be Lieutenant Commander Annika Hansen, formerly known as Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of Uni-Matrix Zero-One. She is here to provide insight into the Borg Collective."

"I bring to you all greetings from the Romulan Star Empire. I am Admiral Sela, Commander of the Praetorian Fleet. My aide is Commander Toreth."

"Admiral Sela, I find your references to an early Earth Empire most interesting. In particular, the word 'Praetorian'."

"My mother, told me of this, once, long ago. The similarities between the Romulan Empire and the Roman Empire of old Earth. Is this of what you speak?"

"It is. During the time of the Roman Empire, I was her Pro Consul, and General of the Prima Legion. I also served as Commander of the Praetorian Guard. Perhaps there are other similarities?"

"There may be. I shall have to ponder this development."

"Chancellor Martok, forgive my ignorance, but was it not explained that weapons would not be allowed?"

"I have no weapons!"

"Your knives are what I refer to. But if it makes you feel safer, you may keep them. Be aware, however, that the guards assigned to you are exceptional warriors. You and your aide may be stronger and bigger, but edged weapons have been in usage by Immortals since the beginning of our history. All of the Immortals assigned to you, have at least five hundred years experience with edged weapons and in warfare."

Each person at the table took Marius' statement differently. For Janeway, it was another example of how primitive these Tau'ri were. For Seven, the statement of longevity was met with awe, as these Immortals were the Borg's definition of biological perfection. Martok and Worf both began to look upon these people as potential equals. Any race that used edged weapons would know the true meaning of what it was to be a warrior. The two Cardassians, on the other hand, saw the similarities between the Federation and these Tau'ri, between the Klingon warriors and these Immortal warriors, and between the Romulan Government, and this former Roman and thought with dismay that there were too many similarities for his tastes. There must be some common ground for us! For her part, Sela found herself in the middle of a riddle. Could there be any truth to the similarities between her government and this Roman empire of Old Earth? She had a feeling that she would be spending many hours learning about this Roman Empire. Toreth, on the other hand, had already read everything she possibly could on the Roman Empire, and recognized the name 'Gaius Marius'. She would have an interesting report to make to the Senate this day.

"We have here a most unique opportunity, to put the fear of the universe into the Borg. It is said, that the Borg fear no one or no thing. Your empires have fought several skirmishes with the Borg to this point. Whether you choose to join us in our offensive is irrelevant. The _Halsey_ will be going to Borg space. We will be taking the battle to them. We will take back what is rightfully ours. The Borg can not be allowed to develop the technologies stolen from the Ancients. To do so would be allowing a plague to spring forth on the limitless dimensions of the universe.

"Do not take this lightly. You will be far from home and even further from your lines of supply. You must plan with great foresight and take into account every possible contingency. For our part, the _Halsey_ was initially designed as a fleet support vessel. We can build every ship in our fleet up to the size of the _Halsey_. Our squadrons of fighters and bombers have been rebuilt since our last encounter with the Borg. Our reserve pilots are getting as much training as we can give them, and we anticipate being at three-fourths of our previous strength by month's end. Additionally, we are transitioning a number of atmospheric pilots for space warfare, though that will take time that I feel we may not have."

"The Borg came here via some form of advanced transwarp portal system. How will you track them to their home sector?"

"An astute question, Commander Hansen. What you call a transwarp portal is what the Ancients called a ShipGate. This type of gate creates a stable mono-directional wormhole, which we can use to travel thousands of light years at a time. We suspect that the Borg made no changes to the original design of the Ancients. Using that as a premise, I instructed our navigational officer to send out a signal ping on all of the known Ancient control frequencies. The response was an affirmative one. Unbeknownst to any of you here, the Borg have constructed a vast network of ShipGates, enabling them to appear in hundreds of systems with little or no warning. Because we also use the technology of the Ancients, our scanners can detect the approaching wormholes generated by the SG system. Since they use the SG system, a test was made of the Stargate system as well. The only Gates that responded were those aboard our ships, the test gates we installed on Earth and on Vulcan, and one other Gate, which is on a planet near the furthest SG.

"Furthermore, early this morning, a single cloaked probe was launched along the SG network. We have confirmed that the planet with the Stargate on it is a Borg world. What I propose is the following. A multi-pronged attack, using troops sent via Stargate, troops beamed to the surface, and a fleet to engage the Borg in space."

"A bold plan worthy of a Klingon! Tell us more of this Stargate technology."

"As I stated a moment ago, we set up two test gates for the Federation to examine. If you'll pay close attention to the screens in front of you, you'll see the Gates as they exist at this moment on Earth and on Vulcan. The wormhole created with this technology is both mono and uni-directional. It is one way when troops or equipment are sent through. That is, if the Gate is opened on Earth with the intended destination being Vulcan, then any troops or equipment will go from Earth to Vulcan. To return, the Gate must be closed down and then re-opened from the Vulcan side. Audio and video signals, as they are already a form of light energy, can move in both directions at once.

"To this end, we can, when in close proximity to the Borg world, open a wormhole between one of our ships and the Borg world. We can keep the wormhole open for thirty-eight minutes at any given time. This will allow us to send the initial troops and equipment to establish a foothold on that world. As soon as our troops on that side of the wormhole report their situation, we can send more troops and can continuously reinforce their position so long as we have the troops to do so.

"The moment we have established that foothold, the AIS _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers will penetrate the atmosphere of that world to lend fire support and additional personnel and equipment to the fight. Simultaneously, the _Halsey_ and the corvettes and fighter squadrons assigned to her will engage the Borg in Space around their world. I do not know that we will be able to reverse the Borgification of the inhabitants, but we will certainly attempt to take as many prisoners as we can for this purpose. Failing that, we will retrieve our personnel on the surface, and commence a planetary bombardment, to prevent the Borg from retaking our foothold.

"Once we have established and secured that position, we can begin receiving supplies via the Stargate and ShipGate systems. Questions so far?"

"The Borg will resist your attempts to take one of their colony worlds. Have you any visual data from your probe?"

"Routing it to your screens now."

Janeway had known Seven for years, yet in all that time, she had never seen anything so scare her compatriot as the information on the screen.

"Lieutenant Commander Hansen, since you are familiar with Borg vessels, perhaps you could describe for us what we are seeing?"

"Of course. In orbit about the planet are six Borg stations. I see dozens of Borg constructors, building a network of defensive satellites and long range detection arrays. Borg defensive satellites are of two varieties; disruptors and plasma torpedoes. Though they are small, each satellite is equipped with a shield system comparable to a Borg cube. The shield frequencies rotate quickly and are set on random patterns, so that no two satellites will have the same shield frequency at the same time.

"There appears to be at least four shipyards in the system. The smaller pair of shipyards are utilized to build the smaller Borg vessels, such as the Interceptors and Spheres. The larger ones are used almost exclusively to build Cubes, Tactical Cubes, and Diamonds. The Diamond shaped vessels are used exclusively by the Borg Queen and her potential replacements. From the visual telemetry of your probe, I count forty-eight standard Cubes, fifty-two Tactical Cubes. There are also hundreds of Interceptors in the sector. I also see an older ship design; the Assimilator. It appears as though that particular vessel is in the process of being recycled.

"Though all Borg vessels are dangerous, the Assimilator is potentially the most dangerous type of craft. The Assimilation beam has the power to penetrate all of the known Alpha quadrant shielding systems and can quickly strip a ship of its crew and simultaneously beam back Borg replacements. In effect, the Assimilators are used to take over other vessels."

"What of the shields on the AIS vessels?"

"I have examined your shielding technology. Though primitive by Borg standards, the fact that you utilize triply redundant shields all on different rotating frequencies, will prevent the Assimilation beam from penetrating your shields. Your organic hull technology also seems to be resistant to the Borg Carving beams, and this may prove a useful advantage."

"Excellent, Lieutenant. Any other questions? Gul Tinkar? You have a question?"

"I do. What is your time estimate for preparations?"

"Well, the longer we take to prepare, the better off we will be. But if we wait too long, the Borg will come here before we can go there. A wise man on my home world, once said, that to do battle in a far away place, you must travel to that battle with little or no supplies. You must appear to be stronger than you are. If we show up in that system with a supply convoy, the Borg will react in a predictable manner. That is to say, they will attack our convoy first, cutting us off from what they believe to be our supplies. However, our goal is not to fight a prolonged fight, but to take control of that system as quickly as possible. Once we establish our foothold in their space, we can strike outwards, taking one colony world or colony system at a time until we control a sizeable portion of their space. Then, and only then, can we entertain any suggestions for a truce, if the Borg so desire one. But as to a launch date for this mission, I would say at least three months before we can be ready to attack. Three months would enable our ground forces to learn to work with one another, to learn our mutual strengths and weaknesses, so that we may best compensate for each other.

"Do not misunderstand me. I fully intend for this to be a joint operation. I am told that Klingon warriors are fearsome ones, and the Romulans are very cunning and skilled at tactics. The Cardassians are skilled with intelligence gathering and are not above torturing a being for information. These things and more are important to the success of the mission. But herein lies the difficulty. Would a company of Klingon warriors take orders from a Romulan? Or a Cardassian? Or a Human for that matter? We have time enough, I pray, to answer those questions. We have time enough to build not one but three fleets. And we have time enough to prepare."

"Why three fleets?"

"Simple really, Admiral Sela. One fleet shall remain here to prevent the Borg from doing what we are planning. One fleet shall engage the Borg, with a second fleet on standby near the battle zone. The second fleet will be there to lend support should the first fleet be overwhelmed or suffer too many losses, but once they are called in it will be an all or nothing situation. If we fail there, there will be no falling back. The Borg will come here and it will be up to the fleet we leave behind to hold them at bay. If the third fleet fails, the Federation will fall. And if the Federation falls, it's a sure bet that the rest of you will fall as well.

"Now, I've given you all much to think on. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of details to be worked out, and I will leave those details in the very capable hands of the AIS Diplomatic staff. Three months from now will be too late to develop a new plan."

The various members of the five represented governments went to their own ships, to contact their governments for guidance in this matter. All except Marius, who had no government to contact.

For their part, Q and Tok'Ra felt the meeting had gone quite well.

"Those are interesting children you have created Tok'Ra. Ambitious and bold. But the Borg population is vast. They will need everything in their arsenal just to secure a foothold."

"Of this I am well aware Q. But as you stated to the Federation so eloquently, to fail is to allow the Borg to solve the dimensional question. And to allow that sort of plague loose on the universe is not a good thing."

"As always, old friend, your gift for understatement is without equal!"

"Understatement or not Q, this is not a war of their making. I fear for my children. I must contemplate this situation. I must find a way to help them win this war. Surely there would be no harm in our talking? Perhaps, with a discussion, I can find a way to help them without fighting it for them?"

"There are always methods of war that are difficult to see. I will discuss this with the Continuum. Where will you be?"

"With my Children. As I should be."

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Elsewhere on the _Halsey_, Marius kneeled alone and in the dark, praying to a God he wasn't sure existed. 'Am I doing the right thing?' he wondered. He prayed for Divine guidance.

Aboard the Federation Starship _Voyager_, Janeway was delivering her report to Fleet Command, while Seven of Nine pondered the question of biological perfection. The Borg's long stated goal for that was Immortality. Perfection. Immortality. Since leaving the Collective, she had not thought on that question, yet with it now staring her in the face, how could she not want it? If this race had achieved it, could she? Could the Borg? Could any species achieve biological perfection?

Chancellor Martok delivered his report to the Klingon High Council. He was enthusiastic for the coming war and his statements of the glorious cause were made with much vigor. Worf, on the other hand, had no real lust for war. He had seen it often enough and had fought the Borg and lived to tell the tale. But a skirmish with the Borg is a far different thing than taking the battle to them. Was this a good day to die?

Admiral Sela was preparing to make her report, thinking on the events of the meeting. Commander Toreth, however, was already speaking with the Emperor.

"I had not thought it possible, that a prophecy of the Old Ones could be realized. But he is the one foretold so long ago. Gaius Marius Augustus. My Emperor, it is right that we help him, to assure our rightful place in the universe!"

"I will go myself. I must see and meet this Roman for myself!"

Commander Toreth would wait for his arrival.

Gul Tinkar was of a different mind. Since the fall of Cardassia Prime during the Dominion War, their infrastructure had been spread thin. Could Cardassia give what was needed? This he could not answer. But his aide saw it differently. Could they afford not to give what was needed? The new technologies to be found with the Borg Collective could elevate them to the power they once were! The Cardassian Council had to be made to see that so plainly evident truth!

On a distant world, called Ferenginar, the Grand Nagus learned of the meeting too late to attend. But they had the data from a spy probe of the tests of the Stargate system between Earth and Vulcan. A transport system such as that could bring a fortune so vast as to be impossible to envision. Their best war vessels were no match for anything the four major powers possessed. But perhaps the Ferengi could persuade them to allow them to supply all that was needed? If they could obtain the wormhole tech, any price in ships and supplies would be too little by comparison. But whom could he trust to negotiate on behalf of the Ferengi?

In a quadrant of space known to the Federation and her contemporaries as the Gamma Quadrant, a now healed raced of shape shifting aliens looked upon the data obtained from the Alpha quadrant. The Borg would eventually come for them, they knew. But could an old enemy be made to see reason in this situation? The Founders pondered this through the Great Link, hoping to reach a position from which they could argue favorably with the major powers of the Alpha Quadrant.

And back on Earth, in the universe and dimension from which the _Halsey_ came, plans by a certain Senator were coming to fruition. He was poised to enter the race for President against the incumbent, John Patrick Ryan.

"My fellow Americans. I have thought long and hard over the previous months and have come to the conclusion that our great nation can ill afford to be a part of this petty alliance of alien worlds that President Ryan has engaged us in. As a member of the Senate Oversight Committee in charge of the Star Gate Program, I attempted on numerous occasions to have the program halted. Pandora's Box, that mythical place from which all the evils escaped, has been kept open. If we do not close it and cut ourselves off from the universe, we will find ourselves gone. Our new alliances with the people who call themselves Colonials and Immortals will bring naught but misfortune to all that we have worked so hard and so long to accomplish. For this reason, I am officially declaring my candidacy for the office of President of the United States of America. May God bless us all. Good night."

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_**Journey Day 178**_

Two weeks had passed since the meeting of the major powers in the Alpha Quadrant. It was perhaps, the first time in Federation history, that all of the major powers of the Alpha Quadrant had been at such a meeting. Sure, there had been peace conferences and trade conferences, but those had been orchestrated by the diplomats. This meeting of the minds, had been for the military leadership. And it was the first time that they had met to discuss such a grand strategy; to destroy the Borg threat once and for all.

The four major races had long ago abandoned the idea of using small one or two man fighter craft, but from the Tau'ri, they were learning the potential of the fighter once again. Of course, each race thought they could do better and each race was given the opportunity to prove itself in a test designed to bring about new fighter designs to the front. These new ideas were being cobbled together quickly just to be the first to field a prototype. In an era dominated by large vessels, the fighter was being reinvented.

Major Carter and her staff had finished the modeling of the new corvettes and were busily churning out hull sections for what was turning out to be a formidable little ship. Well, little in comparison to a _Prometheus_ class ship. The finalized design called for three large gun platforms on 'top' of the ship, and one on the 'bottom'. The gun platforms each had two massive gun barrels and were designed to fire a projectile that, with the assistance of the Federation, achieved a velocity of just over Warp 3 soon after leaving the barrel. The projectile was made of a trinium-titanium alloy that enclosed a naquadah enhanced Solonite warhead capable of delivering an explosive force equivalent to two gigatons of TNT. But even with that, the warhead was small and each projectile measured only one foot in diameter by three feet in length, though the warhead itself was only a foot long. The added length encased the single warp drive unit that would accelerate the projectile to its target, and overload as the projectile hit its target. The amount of explosive added to the warhead was negligible in that the minute amount of antimatter that powered the warp drive was infinitesimally small.

Major Carter's design team had kept in place the existing twenty missile launchers of the _Olympus_-class, but enlarged them slightly to fire the standard Harpoon and Shipwreck missiles. The Federation engineers had added in strips of what they called phasers to the periphery of the vessel, allowing it to fight off small vessels and incoming torpedoes. Sort of like a CIWS system aboard sea going vessels of the US Navy, but utilizing energy based weapons. The additional firepower meant that the vessel would be able to hold its own against the Goa'uld Udajeet fighters when they returned to their own universe. The best part was that the corvette could aim its guns toward a planet to conduct bombardment of a target, so long as it was broadside to the planet. The new ships would also be home to four externally connected shuttle pods that were being designated exclusively for Search and Rescue missions, but would also carry a single rail gun. For the moment, the ships were designated as _Olympus_-class corvettes.

About the time that Carter and her team were beginning to lay down hull sections for the new ships, Doctor Helios of the Colonial contingent had gone to visit Marius with the design for a gun battery. He stated that in the early days of the Cylon-Colonial war, the Colonies had fielded these automated gun batteries in orbit about their worlds. He had revisited the design and with modifications possible from technologies he now had access to, the gun batteries could act as small vessels. The top would have a dual turret for an energy weapon, while the bottom would field a dual launcher for naquadah-enhanced Solonite missiles. The gun units were fully automated and no crew would be needed. He had gone so far as to included a self destruct mechanism on the platforms that would target the nearest enemy vessel and ram it, setting off whatever fuel remained aboard along with a Naquadah-Solonite charge. Each platform would have enough missiles for thirty-two shots, and enough power for the Vorlon style Grand Cannons to fire thirty shots. Marius approved the design, and because of their size, the new platforms could be churned out in vast numbers.

It was shortly after that meeting with Dr. Helios, that Marius found himself caught up with the unending piles of paperwork on his desk. He looked up the shuttle schedule and saw that Alex's strike team was due to visit the Starfleet Academy and so he decided to tag along. It would give him a chance to get a better feel for these Federation humans and it would give him the opportunity to see Earth once again. It felt like years since he'd set foot on a planet and he wanted nothing more than to feel solid ground beneath his feet.

With Methos in firm command of the ship, Marius went down via shuttle to the Federation landing facility in San Francisco. Except for the fact that the aircraft were really surface to orbit ships, and that there were aliens walking everywhere, the hustle and bustle of the docking facility could have been easily mistaken for any major airport on his world. There were still security checkpoints at or near the boarding areas, but there were also decontamination rooms near the arrivals stations. But there was something wrong with what he saw. Marius just could not stop feeling that. Most of the people he saw were wearing the uniform of Starfleet, though there were a smattering of civilians in the room. At least that was how Marius saw them, considering they were not wearing uniforms. He caught up with Alex and his team, and together they took a shuttle to the Academy, where they were met by what appeared to be a few cadets.

"Admiral Ramos?"

"That would be me. And you are?"

"Cadet Lieutenant Barnes, sir. The Admiral sends his regards and regrets that he was unable to meet you on such short notice. He stated that had you given more warning, perhaps even a few hours, he would have put together a more proper welcoming ceremony."

"Nonsense. I think this is more suitable. We don't want to disrupt your daily routine here after all."

"Very good sir. I will be your guide for your visit here. The others here will each take one of your party for their visit and we will meet back here at 1700 hours."

"Excellent! Lead on Cadet. Lead on."

If you've seen one military academy, you've seen them all. Or university for that matter. Lecture halls, auditoriums, libraries, labs. It all ran together fairly quickly. He half listened as the Cadet Lieutenant described the functions of the various labs and classrooms. He saw firsthand, the training areas where cadets destined for the role of Fleet Marine were put through their paces. He shook his head as once again he saw the poor entry discipline exhibited by these cadets. Had no one ever come to the conclusion that standing in a doorway was a good way to get shot? Even though he had been a pilot for the last century, he had also served as an infantryman in earlier wars. Had he stood in a doorway to clear a room, his old DI would have shot him on the spot to teach him a lesson. The comparisons with his basic training regimens and with the one that these cadets were going through was like night and day.

He flashed back for a moment to basic training at the onset of the Second World War and remembered his DI using live rounds to ensure the rookies under his tutelage kept their heads down. Ok, so these DI's were using energy weapons, and yes, an energy weapon at full power would vaporize a target. But setting them at such a low level such that a shot could be shrugged off was defeating the purpose. He was still shaking his head as he walked onto the training course and approached one of the DI's.

"Sir, what you are doing to these cadets, showing them the gentler side of warfare is cruel. The first time these cadets face down a barrage of weapons fire, they'll be lucky to come out alive!"

"And you are?"

"Admiral Marco Ramos, AIS _Halsey_."

"Ah yes. I've heard of you. Your team trounced the best men and women I'd ever trained. I think that fight was highly unfair."

"Unfair? In what way?"

"Your people come from a time when warfare is more of a professional pursuit, and less of an honorable one."

"You could not be that dense! Any of your students here, if put into battle, would die the quick death of the stupid! It takes a lot of smarts and common sense to survive on the battlefield. I can understand that since most of the major battles your Federation has fought recently have been ship against ship, but I'm sure there were some ground engagements. What rate of ground force attrition do you find acceptable? What is the first duty of a ground pounder?"

"We find a rate of attrition of ten to fifteen percent acceptable in any ground engagement. And everyone knows that the first duty of the Fleet Marines is to die defending the Federation!"

"So out of one hundred Marines, you expect to lose fifteen soldiers? In a very short time, you'll have a fighting force that is not at all effective! And you're wrong sir. The first duty of any soldier is not to die for their country, but to make the enemy die for theirs!"

"Therein lies the difference between us, sir. Our troops are trained to fight honorably. Your soldiers are trained to fight professionally. That is, to use every dirty trick to make the enemy give up their lives. Your people are little more than barbarians. We do not condone that sort of fighting."

"Then I feel sorry for you, sir. You are destined to lose every member of this cadet class in a ground engagement. That is simply wrong."

Marius walked away wondering if such attitudes were the predominant one in the Federation. Surely the art of warfare could not have been forgotten so easily? Ok, so in their defense, they've fought more ship to ship battles than we have, well, at least in space. It does seem as if the role of the Fleet Marine is more designed for boarding party action than for ground engagements. Maybe a demonstration is in order? But what sort of demonstration? Then Marius hit on a nice solution that would give his ground pounders the training time and at the same time would enable these Federation types to see how our tactics work and how we can best integrate our commands. Because in the coming battles against the Borg, an integrated command structure would have the best chance of survival.

"Admiral, there's an Admiral Ramos to see you. He does not have an appointment."

"Please, send the Admiral in."

Janeway's office was not at all what he had pictured in his mind. It was a not so balanced blend between comfort and utility, with comfort definitely coming out ahead of utility. There was a display to the left side of what Marius guessed to be various classes of Federation ships and shuttles.

"Admiral Janeway. I apologize for not setting an appointment prior to my visit, but as I happened to be in the neighborhood, I thought I might stop by to visit for a bit."

"Not at all Admiral Ramos. You are more than welcome to visit anytime. Now then, is this purely a social call? Or do you have some business to discuss?"

"All business, I'm afraid."

"Continue."

"When the _Halsey_ set out from its construction dock, a number of systems were untested. Since then, we've been cast into two different parallel universes, this being the second one. Our defensive systems have now been rather thoroughly tested under combat conditions, but there is one part that has not been tested and for this to occur, I feel that you, or rather, Starfleet could be of some assistance."

"Continue."

"You may have noticed the two, for lack of a better term, outrigger pods mounted on either side of the _Halsey_. These are troop deployment pods. While they do not possess any engines capable of FTL speeds, they do have engine systems that will enable each pod to make a planetary landing. What I propose is that some area of land be loaned to us so that we may test these deployment pods. Furthermore, our ground forces could stand with some additional training. So perhaps we could accomplish a number of objectives here. If your Fleet Marines would care to act as defenders in this situation, then my troops will act as the aggressors. We'll conduct a planetary landing, under fire, and deploy our troops. Your people will defend a target and mine will do what is necessary to capture that target. In order to prevent needless casualties, I recommend both sides use only stun weapons."

"What will this accomplish?"

"It will give us the opportunity to iron out any bugs that may be present in our plans for planetary landings. It will give you the opportunity to see how effective, or ineffective, our ground pounders will be. And it will give us a starting point for integrating our commands for the coming battles with the Borg."

"Your idea has merit, Admiral. I will discuss this proposal with the Admiralty, and we'll have an answer for you in a few days. In the meantime, the design bureau has forwarded to me their plans for our new fighters. Two of these are simple modifications of existing craft, while the third is a new ship altogether. The first one is the _Peregrine_. This is a relatively small fighter designed to work in conjunction with the larger ships of the fleet. It came about as a result of the war with the Dominion and was designed to counter the Jem H'adar fighters. It carries a limited armament and a crew of two. It is capable of limited warp flight. The second is the _Defiant_ class. Though it was designed for escort duty, it has become one of our more formidable warships. It carries a crew of fifty, two torpedo launchers and pulse phaser cannons. It is capable of high warp. These two ships together would form the bulk of our new proposed fighter squadrons, with the _Peregrine_s acting as interdictors and the _Defiant_s acting as escorts."

"Sounds like a workable concept. What about your third ship?"

"There is no designation as yet, but the early designs show it to be somewhere between the _Peregrine_ and the _Defiant_ in terms of size. It will have pulse phaser cannons like the _Defiant_, and two torpedo launchers. Estimated crew size of thirty. Instead of the standard complement of torpedoes, it will have only tri-cobalt weapons, designed for long range fire support or planetary bombardment."

"Interesting. Our own ideas of what constitutes fighters and corvettes are vastly different. Our carrier based construction docks are currently churning out hull sections for two new classes of vessels, Admiral. One is a corvette. It will have four main guns, six forward facing torpedo launchers, and ten missiles launchers to either side. We've added in an array of point defense weapons, ablative and regenerative armor, and our standard shielding package. It carries a crew of sixty. The second vessel is a mobile unmanned gun platform. The top portion of the platform has a single twin barrel turret, while the bottom portion has a single twin launcher for missiles. There is a limited amount of point defense weapons aboard. They are QSG shielded and are designed to ram the nearest enemy target once their ordinance has been expended."

"QSG shielded?"

"A gift from our Colonial brethren. The QSG is a Quantum Shift Generator. It allows the vessel it is installed onto to phase out of normal space, thereby allowing it to survive in combat for a longer period."

"Similar to a cloaking device?"

"Not really. A cloaking field hides the vessel. The QSG shifts the vessel out of phase. It is still visible, but nearly impossible to target or hit with any sort of normally phased weapon."

"Interesting. This has been a productive, if unexpected meeting, Admiral. I will meet with the Admiralty later this day and we will have an answer on your landing problem, within a few days."

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A day later, Marius had not yet heard anything from Admiral Janeway, but he had pre-emptively briefed his ground force commanders and had ordered less than lethal munitions handed out to all ground units. It would be a grand thing to witness, both in space and on the ground.

"Admiral, we have a Ferengi vessel requesting permission to land."

"Are we expecting any Ferengi vessels?"

"No sir. We've passed along an inquiry to the Starbase, but all they said was to watch them closely. They have a habit, apparently, of taking anything that's not nailed down."

"Great. Alien kleptomaniacs. That's all we need. Any identity on the Ferengi vessel or its occupants?"

"The vessel is the _Acquisition_, and the passenger that wishes to come aboard is identifying itself as the Grand Nagus."

"Sounds impressive, I think. Permission granted. Send a security detail to the hangar bay and have them escort the Grand Nagus to my conference room."

"Aye sir."

Marius stood in the conference room wondering if what Janeway had just told him of the Ferengi was entirely truthful. She had been surprised that the Grand Nagus himself was requesting permission to come aboard the _Halsey_. She warned Marius that the Ferengi were all about profit. Marius had thanked her and was now standing here, staring out at a pair of _Prometheus_ class ships as they flew past.

"Welcome, Grand Nagus, to the AIS _Halsey_. I am Admiral Marius. Please, sit. Steward, bring in some refreshments please."

"Aye sir."

"You've an impressive ship, Admiral Marius. Very impressive. But let us get down to business. The Ferengi are aware of your planned move to invade Borg space. While our ships are designed more for commerce than for battle, we do have warships to offer you. For a price of course."

"Oh of course. But you didn't come all this way just to try and sell us a few warships, now did you?"

"You are a smart one, aren't you? Your statement has a definite ring of truth in it. I have heard that your FTL systems can allow your ships to cross thousands of light years of space in far less time than what is currently available. Is this true?"

"Warp drives are quite suitable for the short distances within each quadrant, however, our method of travel can allow us to cross from one quadrant to the next in mere hours, perhaps as long as days. I am told that the Federation starship _Voyager_ found herself cast some seventy thousand light years from Earth, some years ago. They had anticipated a seventy year journey to get home, unless they found a few shortcuts along the way. The _Halsey_ can make that journey in perhaps a little more than a week. I say a week, because we don't possess accurate star charts of the area we would need to transit. Without those charts, our ship could easily end up emerging from hyperspace into the middle of a star. Not something I'd care to experience."

"A week? To cross seventy thousand light years? Amazing! Simply amazing! Tell me, would you be interested in licensing that technology to us?"

The Grand Nagus was thinking of all the far flung markets his people could have access to if he managed to get this new form of FTL. The potential for profit was something only an astronomer could appreciate, in terms of the large numbers.

"Anything is possible, sir. The question is, however, would you be willing to settle for non exclusive rights to this technology?"

"Do you mean you would also give this technology to the Federation?"

"Among others. On that point, there can be no compromise."

"I see. But the Ferengi Alliance would be able to utilize this method of FTL travel?"

"I don't any reason why not. But first, allow me to ask you a question?"

"By all means!"

"I'm assuming that your Alliance has Star bases, yes?"

"We call them commerce trading stations, but yes."

"Very well. Commerce trading stations. These stations, what sort of recreational facilities would they have for a ship, say, like the _Halsey_?"

"Holo-decks, gaming rooms, bars. The standard fare available at any pleasure station."

"Excellent!"

"I sense an opportunity for profit."

"An astute observation, Grand Nagus. How quickly can your people assemble a trading station? A station that would have, in addition to the pleasure facilities, say a limited repair and refit capability for ships of various races?"

"A matter of a few weeks. Our ships and my people are quite adept at such construction."

"What about defensive and offensive capabilities for your stations?"

"Our weaponry is limited. We prefer to spend more on profit making items than on weapons."

"I see. That may indicate a problem for what I have in mind, however, it is easily overcome. What I propose is the following. A large fleet will be gathered here soon to invade Borg space. Once we establish a foothold in Borg Space, I would like for your people to build a station there. The AIS will provide you with defensive gun and missile platforms to offset the weaponry of your station, but you must be able to supply the station quickly and efficiently. Does that present any problems for you?"

"The Ferengi Alliance has thousands of supply vessels, all of them armed, with which we could supply a far flung outpost."

"Because of the nature of this action, would it be possible to include limited manufacturing facilities in or near to the station? For the purposes of making replacement hull sections or weapons such as torpedoes?"

"This is also possible. However, unless we can locate a nearby source of raw ores for refinement, we will have to bring in all materiel by supply ship."

"Not a problem. The materials are available in that part of space. Here is a mineralogical analysis of the target sector. This next document is a limited analysis of the planets in the target system. All of them, are under control of the Borg, though only four of them have any sort of habitation evident."

"How were you able to obtain such detailed scans without Borg interference?"

"Our probe is still there, in hyperspace, shielded by a quantum shift generator which phases the probe out of normal space."

"And the Borg have not detected your probe?"

"Apparently not. So, Grand Nagus, is this preliminary deal acceptable to you?"

"It is. Most assuredly so!"

"Then, might I suggest that you round up the ships necessary to accomplish the construction of your commerce station, and what ever other ships you feel might be needed? Perhaps also, and this is just a suggestion, you might consider either purchasing or commissioning a number of ships to serve in the role of station defense?"

"You did say you would provide defensive platforms, yes?"

"Yes. Any ships you can provide would only serve to enhance the defense of the station. You must understand, that this will be an undertaking unlike any other. The combined powers of the Alpha quadrant, together with the _Halsey_ and her support ships, will be taking the battle to the Borg, instead of letting the Borg come to us. I imagine the Borg will not like a large fleet of ships suddenly appearing in their space. I imagine, even after we take that first planetary system, that the Borg will do much to re-take that system."

"I see your point. Very well, I will see what is possible."

"Of course, Grand Nagus. Good day sir."

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_**Journey Day 186**_

It took the Admiralty at Starfleet nearly a week to agree to the proposed ground-based war games that had been put forth as an idea by Admiral Marius. The two 'teams' were rather different. One, the defending team, would be using energy based weapons. The aggressor team would be using projectile weapons with the MILES modifications. The defenders would be made to wear the MILES receiver units on their person which would reflect hits made by the aggressor team. It was an easy and effective compromise as the landing teams from the _Halsey_ were already familiar with the MILES gear, but the defenders were not. The defenders, however, were intimately familiar with energy weapons and the stun settings therein, but the aggressors were not. The outcome of the dissimilar engagement would be that the Fleet Marines would become accustomed to the sound of projectile weapons as they were used on the battlefield, and the defenders would become acquainted with the effects of even a grazing shot from an energy weapon.

A mock-up town was built to simulate the type of environment that would be encountered on a Borg world. From what Marius could see, the Fleet Marines were overly confident in their ability to render the _Halsey_ landing pod a mission kill before it even made landfall. But it would not be that easy to kill. The _Halsey_ landing pod would employ a few tactics that the Fleet Marines had not ever seen.

When the time came to deploy the pod that would begin the exercise, Marius was with Admirals Janeway, Paris, and Nechayev aboard a Federation _Danube_-class shuttle. At precisely zero-five-hundred hours, the training exercise commenced. Marius was providing a narrative for the Starfleet admirals.

"For the purpose of this exercise, it was agreed by both parties that the Defenders would not commence their attack until the deployment pod had entered the atmosphere. So let us watch as the pod begins its deployment and atmospheric insertion."

The shuttle stood off at a distance of ten kilometers from the _Halsey_, but they were enjoying close up feeds from a number of cameras and sensors. When the order was given to commence separation, a number of explosive bolts were fired, beginning the process. As the shuttle looked on, mooring clamps were released with small puffs of vented atmosphere. The starboard pod seemed to drop straight down for a few hundred meters, but that was actually a combination of the pod applying a negative thrust and the _Halsey_ applying a positive thrust to gain separation from one another.

The pod styled for a moment as it oriented itself with the planet below. A few seconds later, small thrusters moved it away from the _Halsey_. As soon as it had cleared the mother ship, larger engines at the rear of the pod engaged and the pod began a controlled descent into the atmosphere. The shuttle moved into the skies near the ground target to watch the controlled entry of the deployment pod. What Marius had not told the Admirals was that the pod commanders were under orders to engage the QSG shortly before atmospheric interface. With the pod shifted slightly out of phase and with minimal shielding, the defenders on the ground had no chance to hit the incoming vessel.

The deployment pods had the same type of gravity drives that were present on all of the small support ships and fighters in the _Halsey_'s inventory, and thus the landing went smoothly. When the pod was five meters above the ground, pitons were fired from several points along the hull, and the pod was winched into landing. At two meters above the surface, leveling struts deployed and the pod auto-leveled upon landing. The QSG was still on and repeated shots by what Admiral Paris called photon artillery had no effect as they simply passed through their target, exploding harmlessly beyond the deployment pod.

As the pod's engines shut down, five things happened almost simultaneously. First, the QSG shut down, bringing the pod back into normal phase. Second, the shield generators became active, shielding the pod and the terrain all around the pod, out to a distance of three kilometers, and a height up to five kilometers. Third, ramps fell all along the hull and streams of men and vehicles began flowing out. Fourth, the top of the pod opened up like a clamshell, with overhangs forming where vehicles were taxied out and made ready to launch. The fifth and final stage of initial deployment was the launching of a SeaKing AEW helicopter and a pair of AV-8B Harrier jump jets to protect the helo.

The ground troops did not have shields of their own, but the vehicles in their ranks, the M113A3 APCs had mobile shield emitters on them, and thus they were able to project five hundred meter shield bubbles where the troops could advance without fear of incoming fire. At this point in the opening stages of the engagement, the defenders were growing frustrated as their long range artillery was having little effect on the aggressors.

The ground commander for the Aggressor team was a veteran of the US Army's National Training Center. He knew how best to place his limited armor to the best advantage. The twelve Stingray light tanks went forth, interspersed among the ground troops and the APCs. The eight Paladins moved out to positions behind the deployment pod, away from the views of the Defenders. With the capability of firing up to four rounds per minute at a maximum distance of thirty kilometers, these units would protect the advancing troops by laying down smoke rounds, followed by explosive rounds. For this training exercise, the explosive rounds would be replaced by sound generators that would 'explode' on impact and emit a very short range multi-directional MILES laser beam. The idea was that artillery could cut the numbers of Defenders down to a reasonable number.

As some ground units advanced faster than the shield equipped vehicles, they were disabled by incoming fire from the Defenders. Three tanks were disabled quickly when the lead tanks' shield generator failed, revealing all three tanks to enemy fire, and cutting the available light armor by a fourth. But while the enemy was concentrating on the incoming ground troops, they were oblivious to the goings on at the deployment pod. The Paladins had moved into position and were sending their second of five smoke rounds towards the enemy. The MLRS had moved into position and were elevating their launcher units to engage the enemy. Before Admiral Nechayev could ask a question about the MLRS, the units fired their salvos and a few seconds later the rockets came into range over the target area, deploying their submunitions. Each rocket in the salvo carried six hundred and forty-four submunitions. With twelve rockets per salvo and eight MLRSs in the group, the effect was a little under sixty-two thousand sub munitions landing in a three kilometer square. Each submunition had a noise generator and a very short range multi-directional laser emitter to simulate a hit from an anti-personnel weapon of this caliber.

The result of the first salvo was a decimation of the Defenders. In less than a minute, their strength had been cut in half. The Starfleet ground commander surrendered after the fourth missile salvo had left him with a fighting force of less than a hundred. The Aggressor teams had lost a total of three tanks and twenty-three soldiers when their APC had suffered a shield generator failure. But otherwise the Aggressor team was largely intact at a field strength of just over 3,300. The Defender team had gone from an initial five thousand Fleet Marines, to just under a hundred. All of this had occurred in under ten minutes.

"Warfare is all about deception, Admirals. Your troops on the ground saw what we wanted them to see. Things that are, by your standards of technology, exceedingly primitive. They saw men with rifles, vehicles with projectile type cannons, and vehicles with rockets. They didn't anticipate that those very same vehicles could fire rounds that would be of benefit to both sides."

The three Admirals from Starfleet were still staring, dumbfounded at the scene below them. It was true that the Federation side had an advantage when it came to technology, but the Admirals had made the same mistake the commanders on the ground had made. They had underestimated the effectiveness of a primitive combat force. Chancellor Martok saw something else. He saw men that he could fight alongside without fear of their running away. These infantry troops, he thought, would make good Klingons.

"The initial rounds fired by the Paladins were smoke generators. Those work to screen from visual sight one side from another. The smoke is a visual tactic that has little if any effect on sensor technology. But while the smoke blew over your lines, the final rounds came in from the Paladins, exploding in their midst, and setting off the first of many of the MILES receiver units. Next, came the units with the Multiple Launch Rocket Systems, or MLRS. Those units are the ground commander's personal shotgun as they are an area ordinance. Each rocket launched from one of those units carries 644 sub-munitions, designed to either explode on contact with the ground, or remain dormant until stepped on, or to hit the ground and bounce back up into the air before exploding so as to maximize the area of effect. When you consider that each salvo from an MLRS consists of twelve rockets, and that there were eight launchers on that pod, well, your ground commander was faced with the sudden appearance of close to sixty-two thousand bomblets over his troops. There was no where for them to hide. But that was only a small part of our deception.

"You saw the deployment pod as it came down and landed. You saw how your artillery had no effect on it. Why you ask? Because the pod commander was under orders to complete the landing with the QSG engaged. That is, the pod was shifted out of phase and therefore your photon artillery, in normal phase, could not hit what wasn't there to hit. After landing, the first items to be deployed were pod based shield generators which protect an area around the pod in a radius of three kilometers and up to five kilometers in height. After that, the ground troops moved out with tanks and armored personal carriers, both of which had mobile shield generators set at five hundred meter radii. In short, Admirals, your people expected us to be primitive, which we are, but they failed to remember that even something as primitive as a rock and sling can kill in the hands of a skilled hunter. In many ways, you remind me of the Goa'uld. You are just as arrogant as they are, and just as stunned when we primitives win.

"But, I fully realize that you are not the Goa'uld, and that you face an enemy that makes the Goa'uld appear as children bullying others on the playground. And if we are to persevere in the battle ahead, then we must work together as a team."

"On that note, we fully agree with you, Admiral Marius."

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In the days after the war game had been completed, the defensive and offensive units assigned to the _Halsey_ had taken a much needed shore leave. But while ground units and pilots shuttled back and forth between Earth and the _Halsey_, the Forge deck was busily churning out hull sections. Already two new corvettes had been completed and were moving about in the Sol system being put through their paces by their new crews. True to his description to Admiral Janeway, each corvette carried a crew of sixty in what was a highly automated ship with several layers of redundant systems for the fire controls and targeting sensors. All that meant was that the little corvettes could take a large amount of damage and still be effective in battle.

In one of the lesser used shuttle bays aboard the _Halsey_, the engineers were busily assembling a launching system for the new gun platforms. These were small units, no more that two meters long and wide and perhaps three meters thick.

Marius had gone over the extensive information made available to him from the Intelligence Directorate of Starfleet and had discovered something it seemed the Feds had overlooked. Yes, they and the other major powers of the Alpha quadrant did already have small one or three man fighter craft, which they were busily updating for the coming exhibition to the _Halsey_, but they didn't have any dedicated carrier vessels. Their fighter squadrons were based on stations or on planets and that would be a major disadvantage in the coming fight, as the fighters would have neither a Starbase nor a planet to launch from. The Federation _Peregrine_ class fighters measured in at just under thirty meters. He doubted that those fighters could easily fit into any of the shuttle bays found on Starfleet vessels.

The early data on the Klingon entry was something altogether different. The Klingons were calling it a _Targ_ class fighter, but Starfleet Intelligence was calling it a scaled down version of the _B'Rel_ class scout ship. It was sixty meters long and sported a crew of fifteen. It was twice as wide as it was long and one and a half times high as its length. Marius wondered, not for the first time, if the powers in the Alpha quadrant could do anything small. The Romulans were bringing something referred to as a scout class ship by Starfleet Intelligence, that sported six disruptor cannons and two torpedo launchers, and, more importantly, could make planetary landings and carried fifteen to twenty ground troops. The Cardassians were sending something called a _Hideki_ class patrol ship, which was, by far, the largest entry into to fighter array yet. It fielded four disruptors, one of something called a wave cannon and a single torpedo launcher. It also had a crew of thirty.

But then when compared to the fighter designs the _Halsey_ had picked up from Babylon 5, or the designs they already had with them, all of the designs fielded by the major races of the Alpha quadrant were huge! Even the prototype X-302 had been smaller than these ships these races were fielding. The largest fighter type ship in the _Halsey_'s inventory was the modified Al'kesh bombers they used, but even those were only two or three times bigger than the 302 fighters. At only fifteen meters, the F-302 class was comparable in size to a _Thunderbolt_ _Starfury_, for which they had designs.

Marius thought on the matter for a few moments before pulling up the schematics for the _Thunderbolt_. With some minor modifications, he could present that fighter as a viable alternative to what these people were trying to develop. On first glance the _Thunderbolt_ looked like a fighter, and it was a formidable one at that. It had a plasma pulse cannon that could deliver a punishing blow to any fighter and it had hardpoints for ten fusion missiles.

But the armor was weak, and the engines even weaker, and it had no shielding or inertial dampener systems which meant it stood little chance against shielded fighters, and the pilot and gunner were at the mercy of higher gravity. So the first thing Marius changed was the power plant, replacing the fusion drive unit with the standard graviton system used on all ships in the AIS fleet. Second, the fusion batteries came out and were replaced with much smaller naquadah generators which improved the acceleration from one kilometer per second to five kilometers per second, and gave a faster recharge rate for the particle cannon that rode under the nose. So instead of taking fifteen seconds to recharge the cannon, it only took five seconds. Additionally, because the fusion batteries had been replaced with the smaller generators, there was now room for storage capacitors which could store power for additional shots with the larger nose cannon and so in effect, the recharge rate was cut to two seconds between shots.

The armor was changed next, replacing the standard titanium alloy with a trinium skeletal structure layered with the crystalline energy refractive hull armor now in use by the _Halsey_ and her support fleet. Add to the mixture, the Ramos force shields and inertial dampeners, the fighter could now withstand a lot more abuse and perform maneuvers that would leave a normal _Thunderbolt_ pilot plastered to the canopy like a squashed bug on a windshield. The hard points he changed very little, modifying them to accept the standard rails used for the Venom air-to-air missiles in their current inventory. With the design completed, he sent it down to the Forge deck and requested one be built as a test bed for further technologies. The Forge deck chief reported back that such a simple task could be done in twenty-four hours.

Then he looked through the Federation historical archives to see if anything could be built or modified quickly to serve as a carrier for the _Thunderbolt_s. After several unsuccessful search parameters, he hit upon something the Federation, or rather Starfleet, used in their very early days of exploration. A J-class freighter. If docking points were substituted for the cargo boxes, and if they were to add six additional cargo points, update the engines, and add more defensive weaponry, they could easily build a ship that could carry one full wing of eighteen fighters into battle. The existing design, if the cargo pods were replaced with docking ports, could field fifteen fighters. Adding three more docking ports brought that to eighteen. Adding three more cargo pods, either at the fore end or the aft end, would give them space to store additional missiles, and a small crew to run the Maint-Bots that would service the fighters. It would be something to ask the Federation, when next he spoke with them. For the moment, however, he sent the file with his notes and ideas to Major Carter.

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_**Journey Day 195 **_

A day later the new fighter was complete and Marius was waiting on the hangar deck for Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c.

"Ah, Colonel, Teal'c. Good to see you. I trust all is proceeding apace with the training of the replacement pilots?"

"Yep. Last class is scheduled for dissimilar ACM today. After that, they'll be assigned to operational squadrons and we should finally be up to full strength again."

"Excellent! Well, the reason I asked you to join me was to present you with a little gift. This is a prototype fighter that combines tried and true technology of ours with tried and true tech from the folks at Babylon 5. She's got more powerful engines, stronger generators for weapons, an eighty-five megawatt plasma pulse cannon in the nose, a particle beam under the nose with an equivalent power at point of impact of just shy of 750 kilotons. She has shields like all of our other ships, and ten hardpoints for naquadah enhanced fusion missiles. She can also be armed with Hydra Rocket pods or Hellfire missiles for surface attacks. There's room for a pilot and a gunner. Thought you two might like to take her for a ride."

"Sweet!"

"I thought as much. Go on. Get out there and put her through her paces!"

"Yeah sure youbetcha!"

Marius watched from the observation deck as the _Thunderbolt_ took the active catapult and was rocketed into space. The new fighter seemed to perform well enough, and at the very least, Colonel O'Neill seemed to be having a lot of fun. He couldn't remember when the last time he had as much fun as just being able to go out for a quick spin in a fighter. The last time he could recall doing that was during the Second World War, when he'd been assigned to a fighter squadron in the Pacific. But even then, the flights were far from normal and safe. Too many mortal friends lost at the hands of the enemy. Marius shook off the flashback and wandered back to the Bridge.

"Admiral's on deck!"

"As you were. Duty Officer, make your report."

"Sir. Forge deck reports completion of all replacement fighters and bombers. Repairs to all escort ships now completed. Six corvettes are now available for interdiction duty. Four dozen gun platforms are now available for rapid deployment. Engineering decks report all routine maintenance completed and full power available to all systems. Pod commanders report all personnel and equipment accounted for and locked down for next deployment. Navigation reports sensor pinging completed."

"Sensor pinging? What sensor pinging?"

"Sorry sir, Commander Pierson ordered it."

"Ordered what?"

"He ordered a sensor ping be sent out on all known frequencies of the Ancients. The pings revealed an extensive network of sub-space beacons marking entrance/exit positions for ShipGates."

"How extensive?"

"After uploading Federation star maps into our navigational computers, we have identified one beacon in each planetary system known to almost all of the member races of the Federation. Additionally, there are thousands of gates in the quadrants referred to as Gamma and Delta by the Federation."

"Anything else?"

"Yes sir. Using the frequencies provided to us by the Ancient Tok'Ra, we have been able to download the most recent sensor logs of the Gate network. Intelligence is going over those logs now and they expect to have a preliminary report available by eighteen hundred, sir."

"Very well, continue your report."

"Aye sir. Sensors report all clear. All defensive weapons systems fully operational and on stand-by mode. All offensive weapons are at ready alert status. There are two squadrons of _Cobra_ interceptors on CAP, two more on ready alert, and two more on Alert-five."

"Conn, Sensors."

"Go ahead."

"Long range sub-space sensors are picking up a large fleet of ships headed this way. Silhouette matches those of Dominion ships, according to the Federation database."

"Comms, get me Admiral Janeway."

"Aye sir."

"Admiral Ramos? Is there a problem?"

"Maybe. Our long range sensors are picking up a large fleet headed this way. Using the ship recognition database you provided us with, we've identified the ships as Dominion battlecruisers, battleships, and strike fighters. We're estimating approximately twenty-three battleships, forty-one battlecruisers, and several thousand strike fighters."

"We're supposed to have a truce with them. They shouldn't be this far into our space. Admiral, any assistance you could lend us would be appreciated. We're still making repairs to a large part of our fleet after our last encounter with the Borg."

"Will do, Admiral. _Halsey_ out."

"Duty officer!"

"Duty officer, aye sir!"

"Sound general quarters."

"Aye sir!"

"General quarters! General quarters! All hands man your battle stations!"

Around the ship, several things were happening at once. The fighters on CAP remained where they were, waiting for reinforcements before moving to intercept the incoming fleet. The ready alert and alert five aircraft launched, followed shortly by ninety percent of the fighter and bomber squadrons aboard the _Halsey_, her eight escorts, and the _Normandy_. The six corvettes that were undergoing trials moved up to take flanking positions around the _Halsey_, bringing their guns to bear on the incoming fleet. _Scylla_ and _Charybdis_ stayed back to protect the _Nightingale_. And from one hangar bay, twenty-four gun platforms, half of their current inventory, were released and positioned in a spherical formation around the _Halsey_, that being the best formation to effectively cover the _Halsey_ with overlapping fields of fire.

Aboard one of the incoming battleships, two figures looked on at the long range sensor data. Both were of the race known as the Founders. One was in female form, the other in male form. It was evident that the unknown ship had detected them first. They had detected the sweeps of the long range sensor beams and they had determined that the beams were of a type not in use by the Federation. Their initial scans of the large vessel in Earth orbit indicated it was approximately forty-eight hundred meters long, or three times the length of their own battleship. But beyond the scans returned regarding overall size of the vessel, the other scans were meeting some sort of scattering field. Whatever technology this new race as represented by the large ship in Earth orbit possessed, it was so unlike Federation technology. In many ways, however, the ship and the smaller vessels that supported it seemed almost primitive. It was a strange juxtaposition of information coming in via the scans.

"Weyoun, transmit the message."

"As you wish, Founder."

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"Bridge, comms. Receiving a message in the clear from the incoming fleet."

"Put it on the overhead."

"...For the Federation. We come to you in the spirit of peace. We wish no strife with you. We have heard of the recent attacks by the Borg and of your plans to take the battle to them. As the Borg have also been attacking our outlying colonies, we have sent this fleet here to Earth, to assist you in your efforts. We hope that this gesture will be received in the spirit in which it is made. This message is for..."

"Weps."

"Weapons aye, sir!"

"Weapons tight. Order all squadrons to remain at their present locations. Weapons tight. Comms, anything from the Federation?"

"Wait one, sir. Message coming in, sir. They are asking us to stand down for the moment."

"Acknowledge receipt. Weps, stand down from general quarters, but keep us ready to fight if need be."

"Aye sir."

In space, at the front of his attack squadrons, was Colonel O'Neill in his _Thunderbolt_ fighter. There had been no time to return to the ship to exchange this prototype fighter for his regular bird. But he liked this one a little more than his regular F-302 assignment. The response time seemed faster and the fighter seemed more nimble, but then again this fighter had been created by Humans, unlike the Goa'uld created Udajeet which the 302s were based on. The fact that the _Thunderbolt_ had bigger, more powerful guns and a lot more hardpoints didn't factor into the equation, or so O'Neill kept telling Teal'c. When the order came to stand down, Jack was both disappointed and happy. He'd seen enough war to know that the ships facing them would kill a lot of his newly trained pilots. But he regretted not being able to take the _Thunderbolt_ into combat. The next order from fleet command took him by surprise. A flyby of the incoming fleet. Fleet Intelligence, an oxymoron if ever he had heard one, wanted detailed scans of the Dominion fleet.

With Teal'c manning the sensor array, Jack brought the fighter around and made a short hyperspace jump to close with the alien fleet. The small strike fighters of the Dominion fleet did not move to intercept him and before he could really appreciate the beauty of the Dominion battleship, they'd made the jump back to the _Halsey_.

"Weyoun, do you have any information as to how that ship was able to close the distance so quickly? That did not look like a standard warp engine signature."

"No Founder, we do not as yet have the detailed analysis of the sensor logs. But this much we have learned from the quick examination of the sensor data. The hull of that small ship, we are surmising it to be a fighter, is bio-metallic in nature."

"A combination of biological and in-animate. How utterly unusual."

"Founder, we are receiving a message from the Federation. They are inviting us to join them in a conference aboard a vessel called the AIS _Halsey_."

"Send an acknowledgement and inform the Federation that we stand ready to join them."

"Of course. We live to serve the Founders."

This particular incarnation of Weyoun was the tenth one. The ninth had been lost when the cloning facilities in the Alpha quadrant had been destroyed by the Cardassians. Number Nine was in the process of animation when the cloning facilities were hit and destroyed. Number Ten, was brought on-line shortly thereafter, however Weyoun 10, was located in the Gamma quadrant, not the Alpha. But that was the end of the war with the Federation. And so Weyoun was relegated to the more normal roles the first clones in his line had previously occupied.

But now they were in the Alpha quadrant, in Federation space, in the very sector where Starfleet itself was headquartered. The array of ships facing them was unlike any he had seen. Sure there were perhaps three hundred Starfleet vessels in the system, but those were dwarfed by the very large ship in orbit over the third planet. The Borg were just starting to make forays into Dominion space, deep within the Gamma quadrant. From what they had learned from the interrogation of a single Borg drone, Borg space encompassed nearly half of the territory within the Delta and Beta quadrants. The Dominion had already determined that even with every ship in the fleet attacking the Borg, the losses would be overwhelming, and the Borg would keep coming. So when the details of this pending invasion of Borg space were made known to them, it was decided that the ageless multi-universal adage regarding the enemy of their enemy was true.

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_**AIS Halsey**_

_**Main Conference Room**_

The room had been rearranged for this meeting. There were perhaps two hundred or so races represented in the room. The majority were members of the Federation, but not all. The tables were circular and were arrayed in a step pattern. The representatives of the six major powers now present in the sector, sat at the lowermost table. The next four tables up from there had the member races of the Federation. The last two ranks of tables were taken up by various functionaries and translators, diplomatic aides and security personnel. The Ferengi representative was at the second table, not a member of the Federation, but not a major power either.

"Greetings to one and all. I am Marius, Admiral and Commander of the First strike fleet of the Alliance of Independent Systems. My flagship is the AIS _Halsey_. I have met some of you, but the majority of you I have not yet had the pleasure.

"The purpose of this meeting is to determine two things. First, to insure that we are in agreement over the proposed course of action. The action in question is whether or not to send a strike fleet into Borg space for a series of pre-emptive strikes. If we can drive the Borg out of the Beta quadrant, if we can turn them from offensive action to defensive action, if we can seize the primary colony worlds in the Beta quadrant, then we will be able to negotiate with them from a position of strength. Second, and this comes into play only if we decide the first condition in the affirmative, then we must decide how large a fleet to send. The first question I can not answer for you. That is something you must decide amongst yourselves. For this reason, I will leave the room to allow your discussions to proceed unimpeded by my presence. I will be in the practice room across the hallway. Please do let me know what you have decided."

And with that, Marius left the room. The sheer number of people present in the conference room promised that debate would be long. First he meditated. Then he drew his sword and began a series of katas designed to clear his mind.

Back in the conference room, Admiral Sela of the Romulan Star Empire was speaking.

"This war is as much our war as any of yours. These Borg have taken numerous Romulans in their incursions into this part of the _Galaxy_. At this time, the Romulan Senate has empowered me to vote in the affirmative."

"In all my years as a Klingon, I never thought I would agree with a Romulan, but I find that I am in full agreement with Admiral Sela. The Borg have taken hundreds of Klingon warriors and condemned them to a fate worse than death; assimilation, a living death. We must make our stand here and now or there will be no one to face the hordes when they do come in force. The Klingon Empire stands with their ancient enemies, the Romulans, against this threat."

"I never thought I would see the day, when a Klingon like Chancellor Martok, would agree to work with a Romulan, with any Romulan. But these are strange times. Though our fleet is not what it once was, I have been authorized by my government to make the following statement. Either we stand together or we die separately. The Borg threat must be met as a united front. The Cardassian Union stands with the Romulans and the Klingons."

"You know who we are. The Founders. The leaders of the Dominion. Though we have not had the pleasure as yet to encounter the Borg in large numbers, that does not mean we have not encountered them at all. A few of their ships have breached our outer systems and they have laid waste to nearly a dozen colony worlds. Just a few years ago we were at war with the major powers of this quadrant. Now I am afraid. Afraid that we must stand with you or perish silently in the face of the Borg threat. The Dominion has sent this fleet here to this place to set it at your disposal. We will stand with you."

"The Federation has had numerous encounters with the Borg, and we have lost several hundred ships to their invasion forces. But no more. The Federation Council met yesterday to discuss this very issue and the outcome was unanimous. We will begin to mobilize several large fleets to take the battle to the Borg. We must either defeat them outright, or cripple them so that they will not be able to bother us for some time. The fleet shipyards at Utopia Planitia have received their orders. They are already hard at work building more ships for the fleet. We must stand together in unity to defeat this enemy."

"If I may be allowed to speak?"

"Please Grand Nagus, you have the floor."

"Thank you Admiral Nechayev. As many of you are aware, the Ferengi Alliance does not possess the power to meet the Borg and defeat them. Our ships are built for commerce, not for war. But we will support you fully in this most bold of endeavors. I have sent word to Ferenginar and a fleet of _D'Kora_-class _Marauders_ have departed Ferengi space. They are escorting a smaller fleet of construction vessels which when you have secured a foothold in Borg space, will be put to use constructing a station and a basic set of shipyard facilities for repair and rearmament of your ships. The _Marauders_ are flying empty, and will take any supplies the races assembled here today deem necessary. This is our contribution to the effort. The Marauders will stay with the station and will serve as its defense. Admiral Marius has promised us additional support for assistance in defending the station."

It was a few more minutes before the discussions died down and someone was sent to the next room to fetch Marius. That someone happened to be Chancellor Martok. He came into the room but before he could speak, he saw something he did not expect. In all his years as a Klingon, Martok had seen various styles of fighting exhibited by Humans, some even with swords woven into the fighting, but never had he seen a Human wield a sword so expertly. Martok was hard pressed to tell where the sword ended and Marius began. Or vice versa. He watched mesmerized for a few moments before recalling why he was in the room.

"Admiral, we have reached a decision. We will fight."

"A wise choice, Chancellor Martok. The Borg must be put down."

"Few Humans have ever spoken or acted like you. Explain this."

"As you very well know, the _Halsey_ and all who serve on her are not from this place, not from this universe. The _Halsey_ started out with crew from three primary sources; Colonial, Immortal, and Tau'ri. In our universe, the various races among the stars know my kind as the Tau'ri. The Ancients called us by this name. They created and left Guardians for us. We call these guardians, Immortals. I am of the Immortal race. We are rather long lived. I am not old by my race's standards, though I am old by yours at a mere twenty-six hundred years."

"Twenty-six hundred! To have seen so much and fought so many glorious battles! It seems that perhaps you Immortals may have something in common with we Klingons. Come! Let us return to the conference room to plan out the most glorious of campaigns!"

"Admirals, distinguished guests. I am told you have decided in the affirmative on the first condition."

"That is correct."

"Very well. Now we must decide how large a fleet to send."

"Admiral to Bridge."

"Duty officer, aye sir."

"Please route real-time sensor data from the probe in Borg space to the conference room."

"Aye sir!"

The lights dimmed and a large holographic display became active. It surrounded the tables and everyone had a very clear picture of what they were to face in the coming weeks and months.

"This is live, real-time imagery from our probe in Borg Space, in the system known as J25 to the Federation. There are seven planetary bodies in that system, but only four have any sort of habitation evident. Three are M-class and the last is L-class. There are two J-class worlds which the Borg are mining gases from. The last one is the nearest to the system's star. It has been designated a Y-class, per Federation standards. The last planetary body is our initial target. Detailed mineralogical scans from the probe have revealed the presence of deep bands of numerous metals that we will need for the construction of additional ships and armaments. Though we do not use dilithium, the planet does have a significant deposit of this mineral. The minerals of importance to us are naquadah and trinium of which this planet also has significant deposits.

"From evidence gathered by the probe, it is apparent that the Borg have not detected its presence in the system. This could be for one of two reasons. First, the probe is located in hyperspace. Second, the probe is phase shifted out of normal space. Either way, the fleet will make the jump to a system sixty light years from J25. At that point, we will open a number of hyperspace portals such that the fleet can enter hyperspace. We will proceed through hyperspace to the target system and will emerge into normal space in the middle of the system. At that point, the Ferengi contingent will proceed to the Y-class planet to begin setting up the necessary facilities for the fleet, while the fleet itself will proceed into the system and attack the Borg.

"At that point our goal will be to destroy as much of the defensive systems as possible and to seize control of the four planets in question. The Borg will face an interesting surprise. They have at their disposal certain technologies stolen from the Ancients. Their transwarp corridors are one of these technologies, though the Ancients called that particular technology, the Gate network. The Borg have not modified this technology. That is not their way. They assimilate, but they do not innovate And we will use this against them.

"Because we too use the technology of the Ancients, we have the ability to shut down their transwarp corridors. Thus, while they may be able to bring in reinforcements from nearby systems, they will not have access to their transwarp network. We, on the other hand, will have access to this network, and that will enable us to leapfrog some systems and advance deep into Borg held territory. But let us not talk too much on our tactics as yet. We must discuss the relative strength and weaknesses of our various ships and how best to employ them.

"Now, for our part and in relation to our capital class ships, we have the strike carrier _Halsey_, eight _Prometheus_-class battlecruiser escorts, two _WhiteStar_ frigates, one _Nova_-class dreadnought, two _Omega-_class destroyers, one _Cotton_-class fleet supply and repair vessel, and one _Vorchan_-class attack cruiser. There are sixty-eight hundred ground troopers aboard the _Halsey_, broken up into two units; a Marine Expeditionary unit, and an Armored Cavalry regiment. Both units have long and medium range artillery support and aircraft for close support of ground personnel. Each of the escorts has an additional sixty man unit for quick strikes. The battlecruisers have eighteen each of the F-302 _Mustang_ attack fighters or _Cobra_-class interceptors, along with two _Bulldog_-class troop transports. In terms of long range weapons, each battlecruiser has a pair of launchers for the Harpoon class missile, twelve launchers for the smaller Penguin class anti-ship missile, a pair of heavy rail guns, and a pair of heavy plasma cannons. In terms of defensive weapons, each battlecruiser has twelve anti-fighter plasma cannon turrets, twenty-four anti-fighter rail gun turrets, six electro pulse turrets, and eight anti-matter packet ejectors.

"We have recently added to our inventory, a corvette that fields four large cannons, and a total of thirty torpedo launchers for the Harpoon and Shipwreck missiles. Additionally, we have begun to deploy anti-fighter gun platforms that field both a turret and a torpedo launcher. The AIS fleet now has ten of our _Olympus_-class corvettes and forty-eight platforms available as of this morning. In a week's time, we can double those numbers. We are also beginning production on anti-matter mines which our two _WhiteStar_ frigates and our _Olympus_-class corvettes will be able to deploy.

"Fighters. The _Halsey_ has several hundred fighters at its disposal, including the F-302 _Mustang_s and _Cobra_ class, along with _Al'kesh_ bombers and _Bulldog_ troop transports. We have just recently built a new prototype fighter which is being tested as I speak. The armament on the _Halsey_ includes Harpoon and Shipwreck class torpedoes, fusion, neutron, plasma, and particle beam cannons, and several hundred anti-fighter batteries of the types mentioned previously. The _Halsey_ also has two grand cannons and two slicer cannons. These are fairly recent additions to our weapons suite and are quite powerful in their own right. Are there any questions so far? If not, I will turn this over to Admiral Nechayev."

"Thank you Marius. The Federation, as I'm sure you are all aware of, fields several dozen different classes of ships, ranging from purely exploration and science, to ships dedicated to warfare. While none of the following ship classes are set in stone, the suggestion is to field the following classes: _Akira_, _Defiant_, _Galaxy_, _Intrepid_, _Nebula_, _Saber_, and _Steamrunner_, with _Sovereign_-class dreadnoughts as command and control vessels for our fleet. We will also be including a pair of _Olympic_-class medical ships, and eight _Curry_-class long range transports that will be modified to act as motherships to the large _Peregrine_ fighter contingent we are sending. The smallest caliber of phaser is the type VI as equipped on the _Peregrine_s and the various shuttles of the fleet. The heaviest caliber are the type XII as found on the vast majority of the fleet. All ships, including the _Peregrine_s, will field photon torpedoes. The large capital vessels, will also field quantum torpedoes. The _Sovereign_s and the _Steamrunner_s will have in addition to the two torpedo types already mentioned, transphasic and tri-cobalt torpedoes.

"The _Akira_-class heavy cruiser will carry five hundred ground assault troops. The _Galaxy_-class heavy cruiser can carry up to twenty-five hundred ground assault personnel. The _Nebula_-class strike cruisers will be home to another fifteen hundred infantry. The _Steamrunner_-class light cruisers will be the long range attack option for the fleet. For this mission, the scientific and diplomatic modules will be removed adding storage space for more torpedoes.

"Starfleet is also in the process of modifying several construction ships by adding heavier shields so that they may work in adverse conditions, and is also adding several repair vessels, that will be able to perform limited underway repairs to badly damaged ships. Four more _Istanbul_-class transports are also undergoing shield modification and transporter enhancement. These transports will carry the ground vehicles for the infantry personnel. This is what Starfleet will be bringing to the table, as it were. That is all we have at the moment. Admiral Sela? Care to proceed?"

"Thank you Admiral Nechayev. The vessel that will be made available to this endeavor is the _D'Deridex_ class battleship. This the frontline ship type of the Romulan Star Empire. Each one carries seven hundred and fifty ground assault troops and a small compliment of ground assault vehicles. We do not have any small vessels of the type described by Admiral Marius as fighters, but we are interested in viewing the prototype fighter that he spoke of. If they are not too difficult to adapt to our personnel, then we would be able to field perhaps a thousand fighter pilots for this cause."

"Admiral Sela, the prototype fighter is a _Thunderbolt_ class heavy fighter, with a two man crew; a pilot and a gunner."

"Then we will be able to provide you with one thousand crews for this fighter, provided it is adequate to the task."

"I'll be more than happy to show you the fighter after this meeting is done for the day."

"Very well. Chancellor Martok? I believe you are next sir."

"The Klingon Empire will be sending three basic ship types to this sector to add to the already growing fleet. The _B'Rel_-class cruiser, the _Vor'Cha_-class attack cruiser, and the _Negh'Var_-class battleship. The _Vor'Cha_ and the _Negh'Var_ both have assault troops aboard. Two thousand for the _Negh'Var_ and five hundred for the _Vor'Cha_. Our Imperial shipyards are in the process of modifying several old D-7 and D-5 class cruisers to serve as troop and equipment transports. We also do not field any fighters, but I am interested in viewing this prototype fighter you spoke of Marius. If it proves compatible with Klingon physiology, then we will add two thousand complete crews to the effort."

"On behalf of the Cardassian Union, I have been authorized to offer three ship classes for the coming battles. The _Galor_-class destroyer with room for three hundred ground assault troops, and the _Keldon_-class heavy cruiser with five hundred infantry. We will also include a small number of _Hideki_-class patrol ships for long range scouting missions or system patrols. The _Hideki_-class is not considered a capital ship, but it can be an effective anti-fighter platform. The Cardassian Union does not field any fighter type ships, and we unfortunately have only a limited number of trained crews we can add to the equation."

"The Dominion is pleased to offer twenty-one battlecruisers, forty-three battleships and four thousand attack fighters. In the coming weeks, if you so desire, we can bring in additional fleets or battlecruisers and battleships, but our remaining numbers of attack fighters are needed to patrol Dominion space and to protect against Borg incursions."

"Do the individual governments of the Federation member worlds wish to contribute any vessels or personnel?"

"The Bajoran government will contribute twelve assault ships, each with three hundred ground assault troops."

"The Talosian governing council will add ten warships to the armada, to serve as station defense for the Ferengi station. We are unable to contribute more than this."

"The Angosian government regrets that we can not contribute any warships, however, we are fully prepared to call-up one hundred thousand ground troops for this cause."

"Andoria will provide ground assault troops for the cause. We regret that we can not do more."

"Nausica will provide ground troops for the coming battle."

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"Admiral Nechayev, the Alliance has one request to make of the Federation at this time."

"Please, continue."

"After an exhaustive search of your historical archives, my design teams and myself have come to the conclusion that with very minor modifications we can convert some of your old J-class freighters into carrier vessels for the _Thunderbolt_ fighters. If we could have the design specs for this older class of vessel, I can get our own mobile shipyard busy cranking them out."

"As the vessel in question is well over one hundred years old, and as the technology required to make it is something we have long since stopped using, I don't foresee any problems with your usage of this particular design. But I'm familiar with this ship. Just how many fighters do you think you could mount on her?"

"Replacing the cargo pods with docking ports, we could mount fifteen externally. Adding three more docking ports brings that number to a full wing of eighteen. Adding an extra deck maybe, or three cargo pods, can give us the crew spaces and storage spaces we need to replenish those fighters during battle. Adding point defense weapons, and making sure the carriers stay well behind the front areas, and giving them corvettes for escort duty would help alleviate the fact that these ships make inviting targets."

"Eighteen fighters does not sound like much in the scheme of things."

"True. But eighteen fighters times say ten ships, adds a nice force multiplier to our efforts. Living conditions aboard would be very Spartan though."

"I will pass along your request to the Admiralty, but at this point I do not see any reason not to give you this design."

"Thank you."

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The numerous other members of the Federation all pledged additional ships or personnel, some both, some only material support. The result was a fleet that numbered well over ten thousand ships. No one in the room could even begin to comprehend the logistical nightmare that was involved with such a large number. The first logical decision that was made in the aftermath of pledges of assistance was the division of ships into smaller fleets. Each fleet was composed of four task forces of two hundred and fifty ships each. This number did not include fighters or shuttles, though there would be numerous fighter squadrons assigned to each task force.

The initial plan called for the strike fleet centered around the _Halsey_ and the _Enterprise_ to lead the attack wave. The _Halsey_-_Enterprise_ fleet would claim system J25. When that was done, the remaining nine fleets would jump in and begin claiming the systems around J25 to create a buffer zone against Borg reprisals. It was also decided to give each Borg system one opportunity to surrender. Tactically or strategically placed systems would be conquered. Systems that had nothing to offer would be bombarded from orbit. It was a cold decision, but a necessary one. Once the _Halsey_ and her crews could be certain that the Borg would not use any of the stolen technologies, they would be free to leave this place and continue their journey. But that was a point in time far removed from the present.

The Romulans and the Klingons and many of the minor powers in the Alpha, Beta, and Gamma quadrants had very much liked the little prototype fighter. But each wanted to make certain changes to the little ship. The Romulans had exchanged the pulse plasma cannon for a pulse disrupter cannon and the naquadah enhanced fusion missiles for a pair of micro plasma torpedo launchers. The Klingons also changed out the pulse plasma cannon in favor of the pulse disrupter cannon, but left the naquadah enhanced fusion missile launchers alone. With minor changes made to the layout of the control systems, both fighter prototypes were subsequently accepted by both governments and production began in earnest at their own respective shipyards. Because the fighter was so small, the shipyards were able to turn them out in large enough quantities to allow the new fighter squadrons to train in them almost immediately.

The Klingon Empire opted to convert a few existing military freighters to perform the same duty as the new _Jeep_-class escort carriers that the Alliance was building. The Klingon design would field three squadrons of eighteen fighters each. The Romulans, however, decided to design a new carrier class vessel specifically for the new fighters. They named the new class, _Praetor_.

Soon enough, the first three new fleets had been assembled and were ready to make the initial jump via ShipGate to a system sixty light years from J25. It was a system unclaimed by any of the major powers. It had no habitable planets and was of no strategic importance other than serving as a jumping off point for the insertion into hyperspace. It had been decided to take all three existing fleets into hyperspace, though only one would make the transition into the target system. The remaining two fleets would wait in hyperspace on the chance they would be needed. The two _Olympic_-class medical ships would wait with them.

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_**Borg Space**_

_**Journey Day 286**_

There was a massive fleet in hyperspace. Three massive fleets actually. Each one composed of one thousand capital ships. Each fleet was in turn made up of four task forces, each one with an equal number of ships. Task force One-Alpha was centered around the AIS _Halsey_. Marius retained command of the _Halsey_ and her support ships, but command of the task force had been given to Captain William Riker. Riker's flagship would be the newly commissioned _Acheron_, a _Sovereign_-class vessel. Command of the First fleet had gone to Admiral Kathryn Janeway. The loose alliance of powers of the races aligned against the Borg had held a lottery, of all things, to decide who would command what task forces and who would command which fleets. Riker had drawn the number One-A from a glass bowl, and so he assumed command of One-Alpha. Janeway had drawn the number One from a similar glass bowl and she had assumed the duties of Fleet Commander. Captain Jean-Luc Picard had drawn the number Three-Charlie, and would assume the command of task force Three-Charlie, in the Third Fleet. Chancellor Martok and Admiral Sela had drawn the numbers three and two, respectively.

By everything their sensors told them, the Borg were blissfully unaware of the fleet lurking in the reddish-blackish maelstrom of hyperspace. Perhaps it was something that the Borg had never encountered before or had never assimilated from another race before. In any case, it was a decided tactical and strategic advantage to the fleet that possessed that particular technology. Seated in a chair behind and to the left of Marius was the Borg Queen. She was surrounded by a six-layer multi-frequency force field, which kept not just her person, but all transmissions emanating from her safely within the field bubble. In any case beyond the force field, there were jamming and dampening fields outside that initial field bubble. She would watch as her 'subjects' died. She would watch the end of the Borg.

"Comms, give me a fleet wide channel please."

"Line open, Admiral."

"Ships of the fleet. Here's a final bit of advice before we open the doorway. There is a legend among my people of a great soldier from an earlier war. He was known as Private Murphy. He was famous for the bits of advice he gave to other soldiers. The most critical thing to remember in the battle ahead is this: No plan of action will ever survive contact with the enemy, and all warfare is based on deception. But the most important thing I can tell you about Murphy is that he was an optimist.

"In order to gain a bit of tactical advantage over our enemy, I recommend we launch all fighters now, and have them fly with us as we exit hyperspace. Instead of seeing a mere two hundred and fifty ships, the Borg will see a thousand or more ships entering their space. Remember our goals. If we can capture the shipyards intact, do so, but not at the expense of your lives. Capital ships; concentrate fire on the larger vessels of the Borg fleet. Fighters; go after the smaller ships and defense platforms. Don't concentrate on eliminating the enemy ships, but if you can remove some of their weapon emplacements, that will make it easier on our capital ships.

"One final note. Today we begin a campaign that will demonstrate to one and all, that the descendants of the Progenitors can overcome their differences, that we can work together towards a common goal. The Borg will rue the day they decided to try and assimilate us. Thank you, and God speed."

"Duty Officer."

"Aye sir?"

"Sound general quarters."

"Aye sir!"

"General quarters, general quarters! All hands man you battle stations!"

"Sensors, as soon as we clear the jump point, I want constant active sweeps of the sector."

"Aye sir!"

"Navigation. Shut down the ShipGate network. Only ships with authenticator transponders can use the gate network as of this moment."

"Aye sir! Sending changes now sir!"

"Weps, warm up all weapons. Load all phase shifted torpedoes. Nukes for long range, HE for medium and short range."

"Aye sir."

"Comms, get me Colonel O'Neill."

"Bridge, O'Neill."

"Colonel. Watch your six."

"You got that right!"

From the perspective of the Borg it was as if space opened up all around them. Blue spots formed all over their planetary system, followed nearly a second later by hundreds, perhaps tens of hundreds of ships of dozens of varieties. The Borg on duty in the sensor rooms sounded the alarm quickly but efficiently. Borg Cubes of two types, Standard and Tactical advanced from their positions to meet the invaders head on. Dozens of Borg Spheres and hundreds of Interceptors left orbit of the nearby planet and formed up into small groups in support of the larger cubes.

"WE ARE THE BORG. STAND DOWN YOUR SHIELDS AND YOUR WEAPONS. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED."

"Attention Borg fleet. This is Admiral Kathryn Janeway. You have one opportunity to surrender unconditionally. You have thirty seconds to comply."

The Borg complied. They fired everything in their arsenal at the incoming fleet. The three _Sovereign_s of task force One-Alpha each launched pairs of transphasic torpedoes targeting the larger Borg Cubes, while the smaller _Steamrunner_s began launching torpedoes at the defense platforms in the inner system and at the planet below them. Fighters weaved between beams that had become so thick it was almost possible to walk on them, if one were so insanely inclined. Fighters and bombers made fast pass strafing runs at the numerous installations in the sector and one by one and three by three, weapon emplacements began to fall silent.

The _Steamrunner_s were having a limited success on the planet because of the high powered shields surrounding the various cities on it. But the _Nebula_ strike cruisers joined in the fray, targeting the shield generators with transphasic torpedoes and reducing the effective shield power to a mere fraction. Photon torpedoes began leaking through the shields, striking targets on the surface, and causing hundreds of secondary explosions.

The Borg were quickly becoming overwhelmed with the sheer amount of firepower targeting their system. A transmission was sent, and additional Cubes from the nearby systems were dispatched. A second transmission was sent, and a larger Borg fleet assigned to the Core Worlds tried to open a transwarp portal with no success. The ShipGate network, or transwarp network as the Borg called it, was inexplicably not responding to transmitted commands. Even at high warp, it would take this Core Worlds fleet, the nearest to the attacked system, the better part of two months to arrive.

As soon as Admiral Sela saw the Borg ships depart the nearby systems, she ordered her fleet to attack those systems. One task force went to each system and in a matter of a few hours, the systems that had been deprived of their defense forces had been erased of the Borg. On the Bridge of the _Halsey_, one could almost imagine that the Borg Queen was crying. Her eyes appeared moist, but no tears fell. She was dismayed that her fellow Borg were so complacent. They had believed no humanoid power could ever mount so impressive a fleet and attack them in their own space. And she could do nothing to stop it.

These Immortals. Their own existence verified to her the idea of biological perfection. It was the goal the Borg had long sought. And now here it was for her to gaze upon, but not touch, not achieve. Could their own philosophy of perfection be so wrong?

But no. That was an illogical thought. The Borg had existed for centuries. They had always done what was in the best interests of all species. Bringing them closer to perfection. It was the right thing to do. Wasn't it?

More Borg cubes and spheres appeared in the sector, responding to the frenzied distress calls of so many Borg in the system. But they were just as quickly dealt with. Here and there, a Borg vessel managed to find the correct shield rotation frequency and in those cases, the Borg beam weapons sliced open ships like a white hot knife through butter. The smaller ships in the task force met their deaths in this fashion. Escape pods were mixed in with the debris in the system. Debris that would be put to good use rebuilding damaged ships.

"Weps, deploy landing pods. Take the planet below us. Signal the fleet of our intentions."

"Aye sir."

The deployment pods, both of them this time, were released from their mooring clamps and styled for a moment, before beginning their atmospheric insertions. Each pod was to land on opposite sides of the planet's largest city, so as to catch the Borg in between in the jaws of a vise. It wasn't long, perhaps a few minutes, before the first pod was down and beginning to deploy its personnel and equipment. From above, the Al'kesh bombers came down into the skies of this M-class world and laid down heavy patterns of plasma bombs and of conventional high explosive bombs.

The MLRS units moved out to a position a bare thirty kilometers from the city proper and began sending salvoes of rockets with their submunitions into the air. The Paladins moved up alongside the rocket units and began laying down a heavy cover of smoke and HE-frag shells along a five kilometer wide corridor that stretched for ten kilometers in either direction away from the city border.

The _Al'kesh_ bombers flew back to the _Halsey_, their ordinance expended. But they were quickly replaced by a combination of Harrier jump-jets and Apache Longbow helicopters providing close-in support for the advancing ground troops. It was the combination of arms and weapons types that confused the Borg on the ground. On the one hand, there were energy weapons, beams and bombs, and on the other there were projectile and chemically based weapons, bombs and bullets. Their personal force fields could adjust easily to the energy based weapons, but they were designed to prevent fast moving objects from penetrating. The bullets and bomb fragments coming at them were not fast moving. Well, they were, but when compared to a beam weapon, they were as slow as the tortoise is to the hare. But faster moving weapons are easily defeated with the shields. It was the slow but steady moving ones that do the most damage.

The orbital bombardment by the _Steamrunner_s and _Nebula_s had been well placed and coordinated. The destruction was widespread, but affected only the more critical systems. Groups of weapon emplacements had been vaporized. Shield generators destroyed. Hangars had been sealed and what looked like garages for ground attack vehicles, covered in debris.

It would take a week or two before all of the Borg drones could be rounded up and placed in specially rigged containment areas, each on the size of a regulation football field. As the containment areas were filled to capacity, an aerosolized version of the Borg nanites was sprayed into the air. The first of these modified nanites had been harvested from Seven of Nine. Starfleet engineers and medical scientists had worked minor miracles to reprogram the nanites. Then had come the task of replicating the new 'biological' agents for use in the field. Each ship in the fleet possessed enough of the new nanites to spray a planet the size of Jupiter.

It was an ingenious reprogram. The nanites would invade the target body, in this case a Borg drone, and attack the nanites already present in the body. The attack was in the form of a small burst of EMP to neutralize the offending nanite, then a probe would insert itself and upload a new program into the nanite. The result was that even a dozen nanites in a target body could fairly quickly reprogram all of the existing nanites in the body. The program was a simple one. It ordered the nanites to withdraw all evidence of bio-mechanical implants and to use the newly freed materials to repair whatever damage had been done by the implants.

So when a containment field reached capacity, the new nanites were sprayed into the area. One by one, the Borg drones dropped where they stood. Their coloring slowly returned to normal and they fell into a deep healing sleep. As soon as the planet was deemed contained, the two _Olympic_-class medical ships moved into orbit and began beaming up the former drones to numerous operating areas. Here, the final implants were removed and the drones returned to the surface. When the drones awoke, it was to a brand new existence. Some committed suicide, not being able to deal with the lack of others in their minds. Some, began the arduous task of creating a new life for themselves. Others wanted to join the fight, but the Alliance bade them only to provide repairs or new ships for the fleet. They asked them to create their own governments and to consider the threat of the Borg. It would be a slow process, but it was a necessary one.

At the end of three months, the difference in the sector was a noticeable one. System J25 had become a protectorate of the Federation. The systems immediately surrounding it had become protectorates of the Klingon Empire. Those systems around this next layer fell to the Romulan Star Empire to administer. The next concentric ring of systems became the domain of the Cardassian Union, and the one after that fell to the Dominion. And then the cycle repeated itself until at the end of three months, a sizeable dent had been made in the holdings of the Borg. But J25 was where it had all started and so it was the mostly heavily fortified. It was the location of several dozen shipyards that were watched over by a military station built by each of the major powers, a commerce station watched over by Talarian and Bajoran ships and by Tau'ri defense platforms.

----------------------------------------

_**Journey Day 466**_

Task force One-Alpha had jumped to a system far from J25, on the border between the Beta and Delta quadrants. Seven of Nine had identified this system as Planetary system ninety-two-sixteen. It was the home of a major transwarp hub, and the home to a Borg queen. The Borg had still not managed to adapt to the disabled transwarp network, though there was repeated evidence in the gate beacon logs of attempts to subvert the network. Commander Data himself had designed the new gate sequence algorithms. Unless the Borg were very lucky or extremely patient, Data theorized that it would take them several hundred years to break the ever changing encryption pattern.

Task force One-Alpha had started out with two hundred and fifty ships. But now, with their seventh engagement looming, their strength had been cut down by a little more than half. Most of the _Saber_s and _B'Rel_ were gone. Only one badly damaged _Hideki_ was left. In their most recent Borg encounter, the _Hideki_ had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been nearly shorn in two.

But all in all, most of the Beta quadrant was no longer in Borg hands. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of worlds had been freed. The reprogrammed nanites had done their job and had fallen apart as per their revised command set instructions. In each former Borg drone, there was a small number that remained inactive but very much intact, ready to fight off new Borgification nanites. It was an imperfect process, but it worked. But now they were preparing to jump into a new system. The fleet was in hyperspace, that reddish-blackish maelstrom that allowed the fleet to hide from Borg sensors and jump in where they least expected it.

"Sensor officer, give me a readout on what we can expect?"

"Aye sir. Looks like the Borg have this system in their full control. I count three M Class worlds, all with a very substantial Borg population. There are six planets in this system. The remaining three are one L Class and two Y class. The majority of the population is situated on the M Class worlds, but the other three also have small populations. There appear to be mining communities on the L and Y class worlds. The Nexus is located between the second and third planets, at what we would call the L5 point out from the second world. I asked the navigation officer to ping the Nexus. It looks like this hub structure is a starting point for all of their transwarp portals in the Beta quadrant."

"Then we need to take that structure as intact as possible. Warp travel is well and good, but the ShipGate network is infinitely faster. What sort of stationary platforms do they have in the system?"

"Still counting those sir. So far, we have cataloged and located over six hundred beam platforms and more than a thousand torpedo platforms, with the bulk of them, well over eighty percent, protecting the Transwarp Nexus. We have counts on other craft, however, sir. Two hundred and twenty-three Tactical Cubes, over a thousand of the smaller Interceptors, and several hundred of something we haven't seen before. Funky looking ships, shaped kinda like a crooked 'L'."

"So, is anyone else thinking this is gonna be a tough nut to crack?"

"Amen to that, sir."

"Comms, get me the _Acheron_."

"On sir."

"Captain Riker. We have completed our preliminary scans of the system."

"As have we. The Borg seem to have a lot of ships in the system."

"It is my understanding, from Admiral Janeway and Seven of Nine, that this system is home to a Borg Queen."

"That is my understanding as well."

"I think, William, that we will be in need of more than just our task force. The Borg have not gained the ability to detect us in hyperspace as yet. So we will wait here for reinforcements. In the meantime, I think it is time we had a bit of a conversation with our resident Borg Queen."

"An interrogation?"

"No, a conversation I think. And I have the perfect person in mind for our side of the conversation. Would you like a feed routed to your ship?"

"Yes, that would be useful. I'll send word to Fleet Admiral Janeway that we are in need of reinforcements."

"Thank you Captain."

"Channel closed, sir."

"Thank you Comms. Get a hold of Major Mulder, and have him meet me in my office."

"Aye sir!"

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"You wanted to see me Admiral?"

"I did Mulder. I find myself in need of your particular talents."

"I'm sure one of the psychiatric staff would be of more use to you."

"Smart ass. It's not for me. I want you to interview the Borg Queen."

"Interrogate?"

"No. Just a series of conversations. It's been my experience that a captive enemy tends to spill more if it's not an interrogation."

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"I'm not sure. The battles from here on in will be more intense. Anything we can do to offset that will be beneficial."

"Done. I'll head down there now."

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Since her capture in Earth space, the Borg Queen had been a resident in the small auxiliary brig aboard the _Halsey_. They had not allowed her any sort of communication with the outside world, to the point of not even granting her access to ship board news services. Though it was difficult to ascertain whether she knew the _Halsey_ had traveled deeper into Borg space or not, the general feeling among the senior officers of the fleet was that she was fully aware of the invasion forces and what they had accomplished, since watching the initial engagement at J25.

Major Fox Mulder walked into the auxiliary brig a bit unsure of his marching orders. It was one thing to interview criminals accused of multiple killings or the numerous sociopaths he had profiled as part of his tenure with the Behavioral Sciences Unit at the FBI. It was quite another to be sitting here to interview a person accused of genocide. For that's what the Borg were; genocidal killers of an order aspired to by the likes of Hitler. It was true that they didn't outright kill the species they invaded. They did something far worse that kill. They assimilated. And in doing that, they took away the inherent right to live life as the individual desired. They stripped away individuality, which to any humanoid creature was far worse than death. It was a living death.

To the Borg Queen, these creatures were small minded. The idea of individualism had long ago been stripped away from the Borg. They were the gestalt of what all humanoid creatures should strive to become. They were the embodiment of 'Carpe Diem'. They were the idea of perfection. But they regarded themselves as far from perfect. They strived to achieve biological and technological perfection. In all their travels, they had observed biological perfection only in the ruins of the Ancient's outpost, deep with the Delta quadrant. In the history written on the walls, they had learned about species zero-zero-three. They had learned of this species' Immortality, and they had adopted that goal as their own vision of biological perfection, with the knowledge that one species had achieved that goal, they felt certain that it was possible for another species to achieve that goal. And so they had embarked on the journey to perfection, never realizing that the universe abhors perfection. One only has to look around themselves to see the imperfection that runs rampant in the environment. But for all their far reaching goals, in this area, the Borg were far from perfect.

"Hello. I am Major Fox Mulder. Uhm, I am unsure as to what to call you."

"Pitiful human. Must you use a designation for everything you see?"

"It does tend to make things easier to call a person by their name."

"I am the Borg. The beginning and the end."

"The Borg assign designations, do they not?"

"This is correct."

"Then what is your designation?"

"I am a Borg Queen."

"I see. And if you should die, will there be another Borg Queen?"

"Yes. There must be continuity. There must be a clear line of leadership."

"Then you are the leader of the Borg?"

"You imply disparity where there is none."

"But you are the Queen of the Borg, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then you are their leader, at least to my understanding of such things."

"If you must use such small minded ideas to understand something that is inherently beyond you, human, then do so."

"As you wish, your Majesty."

"Are you here to interrogate me?"

"No. I am here because I am curious. Tell me of the Borg, of your history."

"You wish to understand the Borg, pitiful Human?"

"I wish it."

"The Borg are many thousands of years old. We have walked among the stars since before our written history began. One of our first exploration ships chanced upon a world populated by Species 003. It was our first encounter with perfection. The inhabitants of that world had long since left, but their writings spoke of their perfection. They had achieved biological and technological perfection. Their technical creations worked exactly as designed, and they were immortal, the very idea of biological perfection."

"So you believe that Immortality is biological perfection?"

"Perfection of the biological entity would allow said entity to live thousands of years without fear of death or disease."

"And you believe that this Species 003 were biologically perfect?"

"Yes."

"We have accessed your archives. And what you have just told me is the same conclusion we reached based on the data available to us. Do the Borg have any other designation for Species 003?"

"No. We do not need designations, or names, as you refer to them. Our system of designations tell us all we need to know about a species or a technology."

"I see. So then, the fact that this particular species was designated zero-zero-three tells me that they were the third species you encountered. Would this be a fair assessment?"

"Yes."

"And had you encountered a thousand other species before zero-zero-three, then their designation would be much different, yes?"

"It would be numerically different, yes."

"And were any of that species still on that world when you found it?"

"No. Their writings told of a passing beyond. We determined that the species moved on from this part of the universe to another part. As they are Immortal and can not die, we determined that it was a rather fanciful way of describing some type of mass migration."

"The species you designated zero-zero-three, is one we know of as the Ancients. They are one and the same. And they did, in a sense, pass beyond. They evolved to a point where corporeal bodies were no longer of necessity. They exist now as only so much coherent energy. But not all of them evolved."

"Those that were imperfect did not achieve this new level of existence?"

"No. Only those that were old enough were able to evolve, to pass into the next stage of their evolution. But it takes hundreds of thousands of years to achieve that level of 'Ancientness'. I, for one, am looking forward to spending a few hundred thousand years in this body, exploring the universe and all that it has to offer."

"But you are not of Species 003. You are Human. You can not live for thousands of years. Your lifetime is a flicker of light in the grand scheme of the universe."

"I only appear Human. In point of fact, up until a year ago, I was completely Human. Now I am a member of the species you have designated zero-zero-three."

"Do you have control over the elements? Can you make your body re-grow missing parts?"

"Those abilities come with time, Your Highness."

"As fascinating as this dialogue has been, Human, it will soon come to an end. I know of your plans to invade Borg space. But you will fail."

"Look at the wall, Majesty. You will see a holographic representation of the known galaxy, including all the information we pulled from Borg archives. The area in red are current Borg holdings as of the time when your Diamond was captured."

"The area is vast, and will soon encompass the entire galaxy!"

"No. This was the area you knew, some months ago. This revised map is the area today. Note that the red Borg controlled areas have shrunk dramatically. The Beta quadrant is fully in the control of the alliance of Alpha quadrant powers."

The look on the face of the Borg Queen was definitely a Kodak tm moment. The sheer shock at being told that her people had lost an entire quadrant of the _Galaxy_ made her sit down and become quiet. Mulder took this as an end to the current conversation, and walked back to his office to write the first of what he felt would be many reports.

The Queen looked upon the revised map and wondered if it could possibly be so. Then she noticed what the Humans must also have noticed. Nexus three-five-eight. It lay ahead of the fleet of which she was a prisoner. Because it was one of seven central nexii, it had a transwarp portal that led directly to the First World of the Borg.

It was not the world they had evolved on, this much was true, but it was the world they had assimilated as their own. Whatever ancient and long extinct empire had laid claim to that system had ringed it with defenses the Borg were unable to duplicate, but were able to control. The best thing had been the artificially controlled star at the center of that particular system. Whatever ancient technology had developed those control systems, they had enabled the star to remain a yellow sun for much longer than previously thought of. The control mechanisms constantly siphoned off helium and injected hydrogen to the star to maintain a constant balance. The process was self sustaining and the siphoned off helium underwent fission which created the very hydrogen the star needed to live. The ancient inhabitants of this system only had three worlds to call their own, but each was the size of five Jupiter class worlds. The defenses were self-repairing and self-replicating. The offensive platforms of the system were such that when it was first encountered, the Borg lost nearly five thousand Cubes before gaining control of the weapons systems in the system.

The technology in that system had enabled the Borg to make quantum leaps forward and it began the long term philosophy of the pursuit of perfection through assimilation. But this Human that had interrogated her, was something of a conundrum. Outwardly he was far from perfect. If what he claimed were true, then he was a member of a race the Borg considered long since gone from this plane of existence. And the commander of this vessel had made similar claims. Could what the Human had claimed be true? That Species 003 had not moved on but evolved? She needed more data before she could reach a conclusion. But how could she obtain any relevant data from behind a force-field barricaded prison cell?

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_**Somewhere in hyperspace**_

Methos had the watch for this shift. He was going over the current loss reports. The _Halsey_ had started out with a full compliment of attack squadrons, an armored cavalry regiment and a Marine expeditionary unit. Now, with their seventh engagement looming, with more than two dozen worlds liberated by them from the Borg, the levels of staffing in those units was reaching a dangerously low level. In their last battle with the Borg, the _Halsey_ had relied more and more on automated systems. Unlike these Federation types, the _Halsey_ was far from home. Staffing with new personnel was impossible for them. Even with staff borrowed from other ships in the fleet, and with personnel rescued from damaged and destroyed ships of the fleet, the _Halsey_ was still running dangerously under-manned.

The arrival of seven Federation personnel transports with Task Force Two-Alpha went unnoticed until the Commander of the newly arrived task force called the _Halsey_.

"Commander Methos, on behalf of Admiral Janeway, I have been authorized to offer the replacements aboard these transports to your vessel and your support ships. The Admiral is fully aware of the sacrifices made by your crews and is even more aware that no reinforcements from your home world are available. In the spirit cooperation and in the hope of continued success in our quest to liberate all these systems from the Borg, the Admiral is pleased to offer the men and women aboard these transports as replacements for your lost crews. To a man, all of them have volunteered to serve aboard the _Halsey_."

"Thank you and Admiral Janeway for the kind words, Captain Metzer. Please pull along side so that we may begin making personnel transfers."

"Of course, sir."

It was a Godsend, these new crew members. The Borg had long ago adapted to the standard tactics used by the Alpha quadrant powers and were adapting to the tactics used by the _Halsey_. But the one thing in favor of the fleets allied against the Borg is that reinforcements to the Borg were only available from nearby systems. They had not been able to circumvent the encryption put into place by the Allied powers onto the controls for the ShipGate network, or what the Borg referred to as their Transwarp network. It was a sticky situation, trying to stay one step ahead of the Borg especially since the Borg had a nasty habit of adapting to what should be a losing scenario for them.

It was, perhaps, time to change tactics. But if all warfare is based on deception, then maybe it was time to increase the amount of deception practiced by the _Halsey_ and her support ships. To this end, the engineering teams under Major Carter had been working on something to deceive the enemy. It would buy them at most a few minutes in combat, and at worst, only seconds. It was a combination of technologies from three universes and it was something that the Borg might consider a new player on the battlefield. It wasn't a new class of ship, at least by AIS standards. In fact, it was a very old class. Ha'tak. The standard pyramid ship used by the Goa'uld for thousands of years.

The latest arrivals from Allied space had brought to the _Halsey_ not only replacement personnel, but also replenished their stocks of naquadah and trinium. Using those refilled storage pods, the AIS and Federation engineering teams had utilized the different types of replication technology at their disposal to quickly build up three pyramid ships. Unlike their Goa'uld counterparts, these ships were a combination of technologies from the Federation, Earth Force, and the AIS.

Goa'uld vessels typically had one force field and several dozen weapons emplacements, with two shuttle bays for _Al'kesh_ bombers and two hangar bays for Udajeet fighters along with room for a thousand ground troops. The first modification to the ship had been made in the engine room. Alongside the standard hyperspace window generator, the engineers had put down a pair of fusion generators, and a warp drive core. The design teams then put another eight fusion generators scattered about the ship that could provide emergency power to the engines should the engineering sections be damaged.

The next major modification came to the shielding system. Standard Goa'uld designs had one shield. Standard AIS ships had three shields. Federation ships used single shields on rotating frequencies and deployable armor in addition to the laser ablative armor on their hulls. So they started with laser ablative armor. Then they added the regenerative armor that had been used on Vorlon and Shadow ships for centuries. This they covered with two independent sets of deployable armor. And they topped it off with six sets of independent shields all on different frequency rotations.

Then came the shuttle and hangar bays. The _Thunderbolt_ fighter had become accepted to the various Alpha quadrant powers and these were placed in the fighter bays. Into the shuttle bays went the Federation _Peregrine-_ and Romulan _Praetor_-class heavy fighters. The designers kept six _Al'kesh_ bombers in each bay and these had been heavily modified such that the Klingon warriors assigned to those ships could use them easily. But even these fighters and the _Al'kesh_ bombers had been modified to grant them better and more protection in the field.

The Federation designers took a lesson from Species 4872 when it came to the weapons. The pyramid ship had four faces and each face had numerous gun emplacements. At the corners of each face their was a single Vorlon Grand Cannon that could be fired independently of each other, or could be combined at a focal point into one massive beam. Each beam had the explosive power of a two gigaton explosive, but the combined beam output was on the order of eight gigatons of explosive power. The individual beams were of an equivalent power of the type XII main phaser used by the _Sovereign_ class ships the Federation used. But if the Borg thought it could be easy to destroy the heavy weapons emplacements and thus negate the tri-focused beam, then they had failed to learn something very important in existence.

It was something that appeared often enough in nature. A human being has two eyes, two ears, two lungs and two kidneys. Redundancy. It's evident in nature and it was a lesson the AIS engineers had taken to heart. Each lower corner emplacement had a maximum firing of one hundred and eighty degrees, but because there were adjoining guns at the corners, the guns were limited to ninety degree firing arcs. If a one corner gun fell, it could be replaced by the one adjacent to it. And if all of the corner guns fell, then the focal point beams could be made by other, less powerful guns of the pyramid. In that case, it took six working guns on the same side to generate the power output of the three combined heavy beams. But they also worked at lower power output with only three guns.

Then there were the launcher emplacements for Goa'uld plasma torpedoes, QSG equipped, naquadah enhanced Shipwrecks, and the Romulan plasma torpedoes. The sum result of their efforts was either a ship that would confuse the Borg, or a ship that the Borg would ignore until the right moment. The plan was to have the three Ha'tak class pyramid ships appear shortly after the battle was engaged with the Borg and to not join in at first. It was a deceptive tactic on the part of the Allied powers. Each of the _Thunderbolt_ fighters would project a holographic image of an Udajeet fighter. Each of the _Peregrine_s and _Praetors_ would project images of _Al'kesh_ bombers. To anyone from the universe of the AIS, it would appear to be a small Goa'uld attack force.

To make the deception complete, all personnel on the pyramid ships wore a sensor scrambler on their person that would make it seem to the Borg that all aboard were of the joined nature of the Goa'uld. The 'leaders' of each ship, would speak with the modified vocal patterns of a symbiote controlled humanoid. One of the three leaders had even adopted the persona of a Goa'uld that was long dead in their own universe; Ra. Though the Borg would not know who this 'God' was or more precisely, where he was from, they would believe them to be a new player on the galactic block. And when that deception grew old and tired, the surviving pyramid ships would be remade into an Asgard cruiser. And each new deception would be calculated to make the Borg pause even if only just for an instant. And it was those single instants of pause that the Allied powers were looking for. For in that split second of indecision on the part of the Borg, the allies could strike hard and fast. And hopefully with all the combined seconds of indecision, the tide would completely turn in favor of the Alpha quadrant allies.

But this next battle, the upcoming seventh engagement for the _Halsey_ in as many months would mark a major turning point in the war. This next system was the control center for the Borg in the Beta quadrant. With it out of the way, the Beta quadrant would be effectively liberated of Borg presence, though there were still a few out of the way systems that would still be in Borg control. But with this nexus in Allied control, the allied powers could launch quick strikes into those systems and finally clear the Beta quadrant of Borg infestation.

That would leave the Delta quadrant as the major stronghold of the Borg. True, there was a encroachment of Borg into the Gamma quadrant, but it was in the Delta quadrant where the Borg controlled nearly seventy-five percent of the quadrant. But that was a battle yet to happen. And there was a part of Marius and Methos and all of the others aboard the _Halsey_ that hoped they wouldn't have to pursue the Borg to the very ends of the galaxy.

For now, the fleet was assembled in hyperspace. It had taken a week to get all four task forces of the First Fleet together in one area. Third fleet was enroute but would take another day to arrive. The time to invade was designated and the fleet made its final preparations. The three Ha'tak class mother ships would remain in hyperspace and would jump in using their Hyperdrive engines ten minutes after the battle was engaged.

"Sir, fleet-comm signal from the _Acheron_. They signal ready to jump to normal space."

"Very well. Acknowledge the signal. All stations, this is the Bridge. Prepare to jump to normal space. Mr. Jameson, sound general quarters and set condition red."

"Aye sir!"

"Jump...now!"

To a casual observer it seemed as if the heavens had opened up into a thousand thousand blue points. And each point was spewing into normal space dozens of ships, all firing at preset targets chosen when the fleet was still in hyperspace. In the first seconds of the engagement, more than a thousand defense platforms, of both the beam and launcher varieties, were destroyed. The Borg responded with their usual communication.

"UNIDENTIFIED VESSELS. YOU HAVE ENTERED BORG SPACE. STAND DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND POWER DOWN YOUR SHIELDS. YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESSES WILL BE ADDED TO OUR OWN. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED."

"Ya know, you'd think that with so many of their systems now in our control they'd change their tune. Just once, I'd like to hear a different opening message."

"Amen to that, Jameson. Order the corvettes and the bombers to target their static weapon emplacements."

"Aye sir."

"Sir! Those new Borg ships are moving in! They have one of the _Akira_'s in some kind of tractor beam! Comms from the _Akira_ claim the Borg are beaming off the crew!"

"Damn it. Inform the fleet to target those new ships! Priority one!"

The Borg were losing more drones than ever before. This combined enemy had been able to do what no other single species had done before. They had actually made a serious dent in the amount of Borg drones available. So much so that the Borg had resurrected an older ship design with an older weapon. The Borg Assimilator vessel was designed to target wounded ships, lock on with a tractor beam, and beam massive numbers of alien crews off of their ship where they would emerge into a nanite mist. The nanites were of the assimilation type. The assimilated crews would then be beamed back to other ships and the ships converted for Borg use. It was something the Allied powers could not allow.

It was at this point that the three Ha'tak class cruisers emerged from the Transwarp conduit and into the system Their first broadcast was a standard Goa'uld greeting.

"I am Ra. King of the Gods. My brethren and I have heard the cries of one of our own and have come to free our Queen. Stay out of our way or feel our wrath!"

"Goa'uld vessel. This is the AIS _Halsey_. You can't have your queen. But you're welcome to try and take her!"

"Jaffa, kree!"

To the local Borg commander, it appeared as though these three new ships were intent on attacking the invasion forces. What they didn't see was that the approach vector these new ships were taking would place them at point blank range to the vanguard of the Borg fleet. But the Borg were ignoring the new ships for the moment and were content to sit back for a moment to regroup while these newcomers attacked their enemy. Apparently the Borg believed in the old Human adage about the enemy of one's enemy. The Borg even ignored, for the moment, the power buildup in what they determined to be weapons systems, as they believed those systems were targeted at the Allied invasionary ships. Indeed, the targeting scanners were locked on the allied fleet, but that was all a part of the deception. The guns were being directed optically, and not by the targeting scanners.

When the three cruisers had closed to what they deemed as point blank range, the large tri-focused beams were released. The effect on the Borg ships was devastating. The beam from each ship was of sufficient power to pass through not one, not three, but five Borg Cubes at once. In three single blasts from their main guns, the vanguard of the Borg fleet, the ships on the extreme pointy end, had been eviscerated.

"Warfare is all about deception, eh Mr. Jameson? You think the Borg ever read Sun Tzu?"

"Somehow I doubt that sir. But it looks like they might be fast learners. Borg targeting scanners now attempting to lock on to the Ha'tak."

"Make sure that Colonel O'Neill and his attack cruisers return the favor. Those pyramids may be smaller than this ship, but it looks like the engineers did a really good job on them."

Deep within the complex that was this Borg transwarp nexus, a Borg Queen watched over the unfolding battle. The appearance of such a large fleet this deep into Borg space had been something of a shock, and the subsequent appearance out of some unknown form of transwarp conduit of three pyramidal shaped ships who led a successful attack against the most experienced of their Tactical Cubes was rather unexpected. But then again, her own promotion to Queen had been unexpected. She had been taken from the same world as the previous Queen. Indeed, all Borg Queens came from the same world. Whether that was a good thing or not depended on the viewpoint of the person asking themselves that very question.

This particular Queen had been raised to her position following the loss of the Queen sent to the Alpha quadrant to assimilate the Federation home world. But that Queen had been lost along with all drones in her armada. Now it was her turn to oversee the empire that was feared throughout the four quadrants by all sentient beings. The mere presence of the Borg was enough to make even the strongest of species run away as fast as possible. Few dared to fight the Borg and those who did inevitably succumbed to the sheer numbers of Borg ships available. But this fleet of ships invading their space, this was something different. Other species had banded together against them in the past, but none had been able to adapt to the changing battlefield as effectively as these Federation ships.

The sudden appearance of the pyramid ships and the new species calling themselves 'Goa'uld', had been an unexpected event. Their method of FTL travel was unknown and this was a not so pleasant event for the Borg who made it a near religion to know all scientific and technical knowledge in the known universe. Even more so was the new and different FTL method the Federation was using that enable them to appear and disappear from Borg sensors, much to the chagrin of the best analytical minds of the Borg Collective. Perhaps it was time to change tactics?

"_Halsey_ to O'Neill. Go with phase two."

"Roger that."

Almost as one unit, the three Ha'tak cruisers pivoted on their axis and made a short hyperspace jump to the space immediately surrounding the Borg Nexus. The fighters and bombers that O'Neill had kept in reserve were now launched and immediately began making strafing runs at the periphery of the Nexus, slowly whittling away at the stations' defenses. The smaller guns on the cruisers were pounding away at the structural members of the station while low power shots from the tri-focus guns were vaporizing large sections of the station. Each cruiser was concentrating on a different part of the Nexus.

The cruiser under Phillipson's command had drawn the task of capturing the transwarp hub complex. Each of the cruiser's was home to three thousand troopers in addition to the two full wings of fighters and one of bombers. But since there weren't that many available troopers aboard the _Halsey_, Federation Marines and Klingon Infantry were used to supplement the _Halsey_ attack troops. But since Alexander was the senior special ops aboard the _Halsey_, by virtue of his long and historical military service, the majority of the troops under his command were also special operations types. One hundred of the men came from the ranks of Russian Spetsnaz. Another hundred came from the elite Second Ranger battalion. Four complete SEAL teams, and five hundred more from Army's elite Delta Force. These elite men and women were supported by two companies of Marines from the _Halsey_'s MEU, and five companies each of Federation Marines and Klingon infantry.

O'Neill's cruiser was busily pounding away at the Nexus, directing his fighter and bomber squadrons to the best of his ability. But it wasn't like a video game, where players could re-spawn. When a beam of coherent light touched one of his fighters, that pilot ceased to exist. No chance of having another life to continue 'playing' on. A person would have to be a robot to not feel the loss of each and every person under their command. Fortunately, O'Neill was no robot. Unfortunately he was human. And like a human he felt each and every loss. But like a good commander, he felt their loss not so much as death, but as a lessening of his projectable force. He would feel the deaths later when the battle was over.

In addition to the crews of the fighters and bombers, he had an elite team of Quick Reaction Forces aboard his cruiser. The shield around the Borg Nexus was weakening with every hit from the tri-focus beams, even at low power. O'Neill was reticent about ordering a full power charge because the goal of this attack was to take the Nexus as intact as possible. The idea was to capture it and use it as a staging ground for the final push into the most heavily defended and populated regions of Borg controlled space. It was where all the fleets would come together to regroup and make repairs. It would be the last chance the people of the fleets would have at a little rest and relaxation before launching the final campaign.

A small portion of the shield fell and was brought back up within seconds by the Borg, but it was long enough to beam over a large contingent of O'Neill's QRF. The advantage of the ring transport system meant that the personnel being transported materialized and were ready to go before the shielded rings were retracted out. It gave the soldiers just a few extra seconds to target the oncoming Borg and hold the landing zone. The first troopers to beam over were tasked with holding the beam-over point and this they did while coming under massive fire from the Borg drones. The Marines with the P90's and M16's laid down heavy fire mowing down the ranks of drones as they approached the intruders. Because so much lead was flying towards the drones, a goodly number of them fell dead before they managed to adapt their shields to disallow the passage of the slower moving projectiles.

When the Marines saw that their fire was no longer having any effect, they thumbed the selector switch on their weapons and began pouring out plasma beams at the approaching enemy. By this point in time, the second, third, and fourth contingents had managed to ring over, adding their own beam weapons to the fray.

At the transwarp hub complex, Alexander's SpecOps teams were making a good accounting of themselves, pushing far into the complex, though, in defense of the Borg, not many drones were stationed aboard the complex. Many of the systems were automated to the nth degree, and there was little call to have a large number of drones aboard the hub. It was a crucial mistake by the Borg thinking that the hub was too well defended by other systems to merit a large drone presence.

On the remaining cruiser, Methos had a different task to the other two. Observations made by the numerous hyperspace probes situated in the system had revealed the presence of a large shipyard facility. Along with the other tasks of capturing the Nexus and the Hub, the shipyard was also a priority for capture. Methos' squadrons were supporting O'Neill's with the fight at the Nexus, but he had kept seven fighters in reserve to attack the shipyard and bring down its shields. As soon as the shields were down he began beaming over a capture crew of specialized troopers and combat engineers.

Deep within the Nexus, in a heavily shielded room, the replacement Borg Queen looked upon the viewscreens of the battlefield and saw the unexpected; a loss. In the long and storied history of the Borg never had such a thing happened. Yes, there had been attacks upon lonely outposts, and yes there had been the attack some years previously by _Voyager_ and Janeway on the minor hub facility in the Delta quadrant, but never had there been an all out assault on such a heavily fortified hub complex.

And here it was happening. The word surrender was not often heard from a Borg drone and never from a Borg Queen. But this was an unusual time. Faced with the outright destruction of this major hub complex and the possibility that the fleet attacking them would have a clear and unfettered path to the First World of the Borg, the Queen ordered a retreat. The order went instantaneously to all remaining Borg vessels still in the system. As each ship received the command, it pivoted and turned away from the attacking ships and entered high warp a second later. Around the system, the attacking ships and the crews within were stunned into silence as they watched their enemy abandon the fight and run away. Probes were launched to follow them and those probes would follow until the defending fleet exited warp travel some sixteen hours later.

But for the moment, the crews of the Allied fleet were quiet. The enemy had fled. There were ships scattered throughout the system, some lifeless and some nearly so. The arduous task of rounding up the ships and treating the wounded began in earnest. On Riker's command ship, half the crew were dead and the ship was listing badly to starboard. The engine room had been hulled late in the fight and a junior engineer had only just managed to shut down the warp core before it breached. But there were many decks without life support, and without access to a shipyard, the _Acheron_ would be out of the fight for months.

The _Halsey_ had suffered major damage during the fight when the Borg had gotten lucky with a rotating frequency torpedo that had managed to penetrate the triple redundant shields of the ship. It was a small projectile, compared to a standard Federation photon torpedo, but it had a large yield. Only the internal shields and blast doors had prevented the explosion from doing excessive damage. But the main hangar deck was out of action for now. The _Cydonia_ needed a complete overhaul of the weapons arrays to replace the burnt out systems and melted plasma acceleration conduits, and the _Ryan_'s engine section had been shorn off completely.

The planets in the system were seeded with the de-Borgification nanovirus and within minutes of contact, the drones on those planets were falling to the ground as there implants fell out, burnt to a crisp from power overloads.

The good news coming from Methos' cruiser was that the shipyards had been captured intact, complete with nearby storage yards filled with the raw materials necessary to build or repair starships. The SpecOps teams from Alex's cruiser had taken the transwarp hub complex with little loss of life, and O'Neill's QRF was in control of the major centers on the Nexus. The small isolated pockets of resistance would soon be flooded with an aerosolized version of the de-Borgification nanovirus.

Overall, the loss of life among the Allied fleet was less than expected. It always pained Marius to hear the projections of the dead and the wounded. It was a necessary evil when planning an attack, but it was still a morbid practice. The fact that less people than expected died was something that befuddled the statisticians. To Marius, it was a Godsend. But it was still a bad thing to lose anyone in war. And the task of writing letters home to loved ones was never an easy thing. To explain how their son or daughter or husband or wife or brother or sister gave their life for something nearly impossible to explain to someone outside the military. Worse yet, they lost their lives fighting a war in a universe far removed from their own.

With any loss of life in a war zone, the maintenance of moral was a dangerous issue. The system they were in was several weeks away at high warp from J25, where the Ferengi had been true to their word in establishing a rest and relaxation station. Out here on the leading edge of the war, there were no such facilities. The limited entertainment venues on the _Halsey_ and on other ships in the Allied fleet were being stressed to their limit. And as a result, tensions were running high and fights were breaking out around the fleet. The reasons were always petty; perceived invasions of personal space, items misplaced reported as stolen. This rise in minor altercations is what brought both officers Roberts into Marius' office a day after the battle.

"Lieutenant Roberts. Commander Roberts. Is the crew keeping you busy enough?"

"Quite sir. There's been a sharp increase in minor crime over the past three months. Considering how far we are from a liberty port, I'd have to say that's the root cause of this increase."

"I see. What sort of minor crimes?"

"Mostly fights over some perceived infraction. It hasn't escalated beyond that, but there's no predicting if it will. It would help a lot sir, if the _Halsey_ could make a liberty call sometime soon. We've got to get back to the JAG office, but here's the latest reports for your review sir."

"Thank you."

Marius looked over the reports and noticed the trend. It started a couple weeks after they left the station in J25, and was gradually escalating in severity. There were so many things left to do that his in-box had become an in-file cabinet. The planets in the system had been secured by Federation troops because his own troop detachment had lost too many in previous months. Though it was painful to think on it, he recognized that the MEU and the ACR units were now at both less than a third of their original strength. It was an order that was easy to type up, this combining of the two units, but it was also something that he knew would be difficult to implement. The rivalry between the various branches of the world's militaries was always a contentious thing.

But as Marius was pondering the idea of turning the _Halsey_ around to take a much needed break at the recreation station in J25, the sensor officer informed him that a large contingent of Ferengi ships had entered the system, under a request from Janeway to build another recreation station in this system. The Federation had sent to all of the liberated systems, First Contact teams to assist the local populations with their return to 'normalcy'. The new station for this system, to be built by the Ferengi, would soon be joined by the various Allied powers as they took control of the Nexus and utilized the shipyards to effect the more pressing repair needs. It would take time, but for the moment, the _Halsey_ would be on a lesser combat status.

On the bridge as on the rest of the ship, the news of the minor stand down was received with whispers of gratitude. The stresses and strains of constant combat were taking a toll on the men and women assigned to the _Halsey_. Combined with the loss of life from the original crew and the constant terror of knowing that each ground or flight mission could be their last, the news of even a minor stand down, was welcome indeed.

Marius put in orders with the Ferengi for enough supplies to replenish their fresh food stocks with enough to spare for a large scale celebration. Not a victory celebration for that was premature, but on their calendar and in their home universe, the day of giving thanks was approaching quickly. Though it was a holiday celebrated primarily by the United States, in this case, it seemed appropriate for all to celebrate a day of thanks. Thanks for being alive. Thanks for their survival. And thanks that the loss of life was not higher than it already was.

The ACR and the MEU were both at less than one third strength in terms of personnel and thus Marius had ordered the two units melded into one combined forces unit. The equipment that had been common to both units prior to their joining were now stored aboard one pod with the excess vehicles and stores kept on the remaining pod. The original compliment of fighters had now been almost exclusively replaced by the _Thunderbolt_ fighters, and the ever increasing numbers of _Peregrine_s that had lost their own motherships. From the previous ranks of fighter pilots, only a few scores remained and they were still alive because they had learned the best methods for staying alive while fighting.

From the little more than eight thousand crew members that had started this mission, perhaps four thousand were left. A fifty percent attrition rate would devastate any frontline unit from any world. But those were the numbers with which he was faced. By the time they were done with this damned mission of Tok'Ra's, Marius feared that the crew would be not enough to maintain fighting capacity. If only there was some way of taking his remaining crews out of danger.

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It was movie night aboard the _Halsey_. Something that happened fairly regularly aboard the ship, but not so that anyone would notice. When most of the crews were on alert, the time taken out of their schedule for a movie was time badly spent, especially when tired crews could be sleeping or relaxing. But now with the majority of the crews on stand down, and only the fighter pilots still on what amounted to a DEFCON Three status, there was time enough to relax with a good book or a good movie.

There were members of the non Tau'ri delegations aboard that had not experienced a movie the way a Tau'ri had, that is in two dimensions only. The Colonials had had three dimensional technology for some time, and the Federation had utilized holographic technology for their recreational pursuits. The Paris couple was among those attending the movie night aboard the _Halsey_. Tom Paris had an affinity for all things from the twentieth century and his wife Belanna went along to make sure he stayed out of trouble.

Marius was not among those watching the movies this night. Instead, he was looking over the damage sustained in their latest engagement. The _Halsey_ was in need of a space dock to rebuild the destroyed engineering section and to replace the damaged hull plates. The _Cydonia_ and the _Ryan_ were in the same need, but for other reasons, just as severe. The hull of the _Halsey_ had been breached! His ship. Well, his designs in any case. It hurt him. He wondered if this is what a parent felt like when their off-spring fell and hurt themselves. Though he had raised several children in his lifetime, none were biologically his. At least none that he was aware of. Tok'Ra's revelation at the Gathering that Immortals could have children was still a sobering thought in his mind.

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A week went by before the former Borg shipyards had been reprogrammed sufficiently to build replacement hull sections, though they still had a definite Borg styling. The bad part of that reprogramming was that the Borg shipyards could only build the hull sections the Federation and its counterparts needed, but not the organo-crystalline structures the _Halsey_ and her escorts needed. Those still had to be grown in the Forge decks aboard the _Halsey_. At the moment, however, the Forge deck was churning out defense platforms to help secure the system from further incursions by the Borg. And there were still fighters patrolling the system, though according to the latest probe data, the Borg had not moved from the system they had traveled to. The speculation among the crews in the fleet was that the Borg were experiencing some form of confusion over their staggering losses and the capture of two of their Queens.

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_**Brig**_

_**AIS Halsey**_

Major Mulder was returning for another session with the captive Borg Queen. Though now he had two Queens to observe. He wondered if either of the two captives knew of the other. If they didn't, he speculated the reaction would be severe.

"Good evening, your Highness. I trust all is well?"

"More 'conversations' human?"

"Yes. I found our last chat so enlightening that I felt I had to return for more insights. Your 'race' is a unique one. You are not one species, but many species. Whether you like it or not, the Collective and the Federation have much in common. The Federation is a conglomeration of many races, or many species, all of them working together towards a common set of goals. The Federation exists for mutual protection against aggressors, for scientific advancement and exploration, and for peaceful purposes. The Collective, on the other hand, while it is also a combination of many races, and while you do seem to have a common goal, it is not as enlightened as the Federation. You take what others have. You kill and murder to obtain those items you deem necessary to your goals. You don't negotiate. You don't bargain for those things."

"The Borg do not negotiate with anyone. We are the future of the universe. We strive to perfect ourselves. Species zero-zero-three is perfection in the biological sense. The android Data, of the Federation, is a close approximation of the Borg ideal of technological perfection. You, human, who claim to be a member of zero-zero-three should be fully aware of your potential. Yet you associate yourself with these flawed humans with their small minds. Tell me why. I want to understand this."

"The Ancients, those whom you call Species zero-zero-three, created us in their image. Not to rule, though we have. Not to dominate, though we have. We have been Generals, Emperors, Kings. We have been rogues, soldiers, and thieves. All of these we have been and more. We were created by the Ancients to serve as guardians, as teachers, but how could we possibly protect and serve if we had not ourselves been in their place? Why do we associate ourselves with, to use your words, these small minded humans? Because we are them. They are us."

"I do not understand."

"You may. With time. But on to the real reason I am here this afternoon. You are aware, no doubt, that we have made further incursions into your space?"

"I am aware of this."

"Are you aware that this ship is presently keeping station in the system you refer to as ninety-two-sixteen?"

"That is not possible. The system you have mentioned is one of the most heavily fortified systems in the Borg Collective. Such a thing is not possible."

"Perhaps. Would it surprise you to know that your fellow Borg fled the battle? That not only did we win the fight for this system, but that we captured the Nexus intact? And the shipyards. And the transwarp hub complex? And, more importantly, your successor?"

As Mulder uttered those last few words, the wall that had been to the first Borg Queen's left side withdrew from its place to reveal another cell. A cell with a Borg Queen.

"My successor, I presume."

"She is that. Though aside from threats and as yet empty promises of retaliation, she has not been at all forthcoming in terms of conversation."

Mulder left the room and walked to the security office where he would observe the interactions, if any, between one Queen and another.

"The human said our drones fled the battle. Is this true?"

"It is."

"As a Borg Queen, you should ordered them to fight to the end. Our way is not to flee."

"You have been out of touch with the Collective. These human vermin have taken control of the entire Beta quadrant. Their allies have struck at our holdings in the Gamma quadrant, and pushed our borders back to the Delta quadrant. We are fighting a war on multiple fronts. They have taken thousands of our worlds and liberated untold trillions of drones. We have had to resurrect an old ship design to offset our losses in drones."

"The Assimilator?"

"Correct."

"If that ship is once again in our ranks then I fear our losses must be severe."

"They are. I feel I must confess that we were not ready for this sort of response to your failed attempt to assimilate the Federation home world."

"Nor did I anticipate this sort of response. They have fought us before and they always seem to win, but on those earlier occasions, it was always only one Cube sent to their space. My plan should have worked."

Mulder walked back into the brig at this point in the conversation. He was joined by Marius and Tok'Ra, who chose to remain invisible to the Borg for the moment.

"Your Highness, even you should realize that no battle plan survives the first moments of combat. You could have planned for years and choreographed the events to an ultimate precision, but it still would have done you no good."

"Admiral Marius. You have chosen to take over this interrogation from the one who claims to be a member of Species zero-zero-three?"

"No. I am here merely as an observer. Have you explained to your fellow Regent, that myself and Major Mulder are members of the species you refer to as zero-zero-three?"

"No. It is an un-necessary falsehood."

"And what sort of evidence would you believe?"

"_Admiral, Jameson_."

"What is it, Mr. Jameson?"

"_Sir, a report from the Federation engineering crew on the Nexus. This gate complex leads directly to what they are calling the First World of the Borg Collective_."

"Excellent. Inform the fleet that this will be our next target."

"_Aye sir. Jameson out_."

"Tok'Ra? Do you recognize this planet?"

"_Eetium_, Marius. _Hic qua videeum_."

"The Place of Your Legacy. _Euge_."

The two Borg Queens had looks on their faces that could be considered atypical for them. One of them, the one who had been in captivity the longest, looked on with awe, while the newer captive looked on in astonishment. Floating between Admiral Marius and Major Mulder was this gaseous golden cloud. It had no discernable form yet it spoke and when it spoke, there was a definite intelligence behind the voice. If this were a trick of holography perpetrated by these pitiful humans, then Bravo, for it was well done. But if it were not a trick?

"Marius, I think our guests are speechless."

"I do believe you are correct in that, Mulder. What do you think of the Borg, Tok'Ra?"

"They are primitive, Marius. True that they appear more advanced than the Tau'ri and the Federation, but by comparison to my fellow Ancients, they are as backwards as some of the races that your fellows in the SGC have encountered in their travels. They do innovate. They assimilate. They are no more than thieves, Marius. You must go there. You must take back what is rightfully the property of the Ancients. As our inheritors, these things belong to you and to the other Immortals."

"Ironic isn't it your Highness? You think of the Federation and her allies as primitives, yet in the eyes of our creators, you are primitives. We will go to this First World and we will take what is rightfully ours. And there is nothing you can do to stop us."

"Wait! What is that creature?"

"_Egoo ani anqueetu. Abicierum_ Borg. Borg _derentius_. Borg _feggus_. _Perennial adventus_, Borg."

"We do not understand this language. Human. Translate!"

"Hehehe. Of course, Your Highness. 'I am the Ancient. Give it up, Borg. The Borg are insane. The Borg are finished. Catastrophe is approaching you, Borg'."

With that, Marius and Mulder left the room while the gaseous entity that was Tok'Ra seemed to stare at the two Borg Queens before disappearing into nothingness.

----------------------------------------

The mold was set. The target was declared and the probes launched to that system. Early data indicated several thousand Borg cubes in the system, along with tens of thousands of defense platforms. More than seventy percent of those platforms were of Borg manufacture, but the remainder were responding to the sensor pinging. And there were other devices in the system responding to the pings as well. After a brief consultation with Tok'Ra, a plan began to take shape. He asked for a strategy planning session and for representatives from each of the races presently in the system.

It was a most unique meeting. Gul Tinkar of the Cardassian Empire. Chancellor Martok of the Klingon Empire. Admiral Sela of the Romulan Empire. Admiral Janeway of the Federation. Colonel Starbuck of Colonial Mars. Lieutenant Phillipson of Immortal Luna. Alyt Merann of the Minbari. Captain Carn Mollari of the Centauri. Theirs was an unenviable task; to create a strategy that would decimate the Borg in one final blow by taking from them the First World, the outpost of the Ancients. _Hic qua videeum_. The Place of Our Legacy.

"With an exact map of the local space, we can use a technique the Minbari mastered in warfare. The vortex created by a jump point can incinerate any ship that happens to be caught in it as it forms. With another ship sending coordinates, we can use this to a great effect."

"Excellent Merann. We can use the ships already in the system to paint the targets to allow the ships still in hyperspace to jump in at the precise point."

"Paint the targets? How do you mean paint the targets, Alexander?"

"My apologies, Tinkar. Painting the target means to illuminate it with a sensor beam. I propose to send in the _Halsey_ first, with her cruiser escorts. Once they send the attack signal, the first ships will jump in from hyperspace, taking out the targeted ships. Then we'll turn the defense platforms against them and use them to take out as many ships or Borg platforms as possible."

"This sounds like the beginnings of a workable plan. But what of the other platforms found in the target system?"

"Ah yes. Those are hidden in small folds in what Tok'Ra calls dimensional space, but we believe that to be what the Federation calls subspace. These are not weapons platforms. They are repair and refueling stations that were once used by the Ancients to stage patrols in their system. We will use those platforms to stage one squadron per platform. It sounds like a small number of fighters, but there is a method to our madness.

"Three fighters will be of the _Mustang_ variety with the remainder of the squadron made up of _Thunderbolt_s. The _Thunderbolt_s will be there as escorts for the F-302s. Those _Mustang_ fighters will be carrying four missiles, two per wing. Shipwreck missiles. SS-N-19s. Naquadah enhanced anti-matter warheads with an explosive equivalent of one gigaton. From the probe data we have identified several targets that if taken out in the first moments of battle will decide who wins and who gets assimilated. Our task, therefore, is to take out these targets as quickly as possible. There are four platforms where we will stage the attack squadrons."

While the meetings regarding strategy ran on and on, others were working hard to repair the damages done in the most recent battle. There were now three full fleets in the region, with two more on the way.

----------------------------------------

_**Brig, AIS Halsey**_

There was no interrogator in the room, but the two Queens were monitored all the time. The Queen who had been in residence the longest had already come to a particular conclusion. The younger Queen would reach that conclusion in a few minutes. But it was the same conclusion that they reached. If they were to save the Collective to which they were responsible, then they would need to do something heretofore unthinkable. They would need to alter their way of thinking. But change is something that is difficult at best to achieve. Though neither of the two had ever heard of a Tau'ri by name of Machiavelli, they both recognized something fundamental, that there is nothing more difficult to accomplish, nor more dubious of success, nor more dangerous to achieve than to initiate a new order of things. Though perhaps they had already realized this evident truth.

In any case, it would soon prove a moot point. The four special attack squadrons had launched four hours previously and were approaching a point one light-hour from the target using the ShipGate network. From there, they would use Goa'uld cloaking devices to sneak into position on the platforms. The fleets were in hyperspace in the target system and were waiting for the _Halsey_ to make her appearance. The _Halsey_ and her escorts would paint as many targets as possible for the incoming fleet to destroy with the jump point vortices. But for this final mission in this universe, Marius agreed with Mulder. The two Borg Queens would be on the bridge.

"Welcome your Highnesses, welcome. I trust you understand the need for restraints to your persons whilst you are on my bridge?"

"We would do no less, human."

"I'm glad you understand. Do you know where we are?"

"Your ship is in a transwarp conduit."

"Actually, what you call a transwarp conduit the Ancients called the Gate Network. Your Collective has taken the technologies from what you call the First World and perverted them. The Ancients came to this place hundreds of millennia ago to explore, but troubles in their home system forced them to leave here. Now, they have returned to reclaim what is rightfully theirs. And we will do so very, very soon."

"The Collective will not allow this to happen."

"Your Collective will have no choice in the matter."

The view screens aboard the _Halsey_ showed the conduit in all its ancient glory. The sensation of movement was almost negligible, yet the _Halsey_ was traversing two hundred and fifty light years every minute. And as suddenly as their journey had begun, it was time.

"Admiral, we are approaching the exit point."

"Very well. Disengage Hyperdrive. All stations, this is the bridge. Red alert."

The _Halsey_ emerged from the transwarp conduit in the middle of the system and Borg Cubes, large and small, moved quickly to surround the vessel. The eight battlecruisers detached from the _Halsey_ and took up escort positions. The two _WhiteStar_ heavy cruisers flew along side the _Halsey_, their weapons ready to incinerate any ship that came near. The Borg started things off with their standard greeting.

"UNIDENTIFIED VESSELS. YOU HAVE ENTERED BORG SPACE. STAND DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND POWER DOWN YOUR SHIELDS. YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESSES WILL BE ADDED TO OUR OWN. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED."

"Borg vessels. Ya know, y'all really need to change your greeting. It can get quite old really fast. I have two people here who wish to say hello. Jameson, widen transmitted image."

The newly raised Borg Queen looked upon the image being transmitted from this large vessel in Borg space. Standing on either side of the inferior human were not one, but two Borg Queens. The one who had been sent to Federation space, and the one who had let system 9216 fall. This in of itself, was an unexpected event.

On the command deck of the _Halsey_, Marius gave the order for phase one of the attack. A signal was sent to the four squadrons on the periphery of the system, and they started their attack runs. And on the _Halsey_, her eight battlecruiser escorts and two heavy cruiser escorts, the targeting beams began painting the Borg vessels. The fighters would advance to a specific point and await the final go order, just as the ships waiting in hyperspace were awaiting their own go order.

"UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL. YOU WILL RELEASE THE QUEENS. DO THIS AND WE WILL ALLOW YOU TO LEAVE THIS SPACE UNMOLESTED."

"I'm afraid you still don't understand, Borg vessel. We have no desire to release these Queens to your custody. The planet below us is ours. We have come to reclaim what is ours. Surrender or be destroyed."

"THE PLANET BELOW IS THE FIRST WORLD. WE WILL NOT SURRENDER."

"Weps, send the control codes for the platforms."

"Tactical, deploy gun platforms. Stand by to deploy fighter squadrons."

"Mr. Jameson. Transmit go order to special attack squadrons. Time the detonations to coincide with special attack."

"Aye sir. Transmitting go codes now. Sensor officer, paint as many targets as possible. Order all escorts to comply."

"Affirmative."

From four positions in the system, the fighters launched the missiles. Forty-eight missiles were visible for a split second before they phase shifted. The F-302s, their ordinance expended, pulled about and made high speed runs to the _Halsey_, to re-arm and refuel. Just as the missiles impacted their targets, space around the Borg fleet opened up in dozens of blue portals. Where the vortices opened, Borg vessels were ravaged by unimaginable energies and ripped to shreds.

The Borg Nexus behind the fleet and in stationary orbit over the planet flashed as twelve naquadah enhanced Shipwreck missiles impacted on the superstructure of the station. When the flash had subsided, the largest pieces of the Nexus could be measured in inches. At the Borg shipyards in orbit around the second moon nearest the planet, another twelve naquadah enhanced Shipwreck missiles impacted in a diagonal spread across the shipyard, with each explosion feeding into the next. When that subsided, the shipyards and the vessels they had been servicing, were no more.

The remaining twenty-four missiles were targeted at the largest Borg Cubes seen to date. They were, in the words of the elder Borg Queen on the _Halsey_, Heavy Tactical Cubes, completely encased in external armor. From the spy probes they had sent to the system weeks before, the Allied fleet had observed eight of these new Cubes. There were more in the system now than just eight, but that was beyond the control of the Allied fleet. Three missiles were targeted at each Cube. The missiles began impacting their targets and their were bright flashes as naquadah mixed with anti-matter to fuel tremendous explosions. As the explosions subsided, the bridge crew of the _Halsey_ sat in awe. The Cubes had survived their encounter, but there were large portions vaporized by the missiles.

Elsewhere, the defense platforms left by the Ancients had been subverted by the _Halsey_ control codes and were turning their beam weapons against Borg controlled platforms. The defense platforms released by the _Halsey_ began pouring out fire and torpedoes at a high rate of speed at the nearer targets. As soon as the munitions of each platform had been expended, those same platforms rammed into the nearest Borg vessel, expending what was left of their fuel in fiery explosions. The corvettes were turning their multiple torpedo launchers towards the bulk of the Borg fleet and firing four round groups of fusion missiles. They were also turning their heavy guns to bear on the larger Borg Tactical Cubes and pouring out a steady stream of phaser fire in a constantly rotating frequency. It was having a limited effect.

The armored Cubes were now being painted by targeting beams from the _Halsey_ and then space opened up again with several dozen more blue energy vortices. The combined effects from the missile strikes and the sheer amount of energy unleashed by the opening into hyperspace ripped into what was left of the Heavy Tactical Cubes, ripping them to shreds and spilling thousands of Borg drones into the cold hard vacuum of space.

The ships that had just come through the jump point vortices now added their own targeting beams to the hundreds of targets in the system, and a new wave of jump points formed. The _Normandy_ came through the jump point, incinerating one target and firing all of her guns at the numerous Borg Interceptors in her immediate area. The impacts from the heavy pulsar cannons, the heavy ion cannons, and the Vorlon and Shadow cannons eviscerated the small Interceptors surrounding her normal space insertion point.

More targeting beams and more jump points. More ships to add more targeting beams and more jump points. It was chaos for the Borg. The sheer amount of energy necessary to tear open a hole in space was something the Borg couldn't defend against. More and more Borg ships fell to this new type of attack. Until, at last, they realized their fate.

"ENOUGH! UNIDENTIFIED VESSELS. WE ARE STANDING DOWN OUR WEAPONS."

"_Halsey_ to fleet. Stand down, but remain at red alert."

"_Halsey_ to Borg Queen. What are your intentions?"

"VESSEL _HALSEY_. WE WISH TO UNDERSTAND YOUR CLAIM TO THIS SYSTEM. YOU WILL MEET WITH ME."

"Borg Queen. Lower your shields so that I might beam aboard. I will bring three aides with me."

"AGREED."

"Methos, you have the conn. Keep a target lock on myself and my team. Beam us out of there if things go to hell."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Marius."

"Amen, brother."

When the sensory officer confirmed the lowering of shields on the Queen's Diamond, the _Halsey_ beamed over the away team. Marius was accompanied by Alison, Kyra, and Reagan. They stood behind him, swords drawn, in defense of their President. The Borg Queen, for her part, stood in front of Marius. Her own bodyguards surrounded them, weapons drawn in defense of their Queen.

"Explain your claim to this system."

"This system was home to the race you refer to as Species zero-zero-three."

"That is correct."

"Among the technologies you have laid claim to that were on this world, are technologies zero-one-seven-eight and seven-nine."

"That is also correct."

"There are other technologies here that belonged to and were created by Species zero-zero-three."

"Correct."

"Do you agree that those items and that this world were the property of Species zero-zero-three?"

"They were. That species was no longer here when the Borg encountered this world. We laid claim to it after the defense platforms in this system destroyed over a thousand exploratory Cubes. Obviously the fact that this system was so well guarded intrigued the Collective and this world was taken.

"And if a member of Species zero-zero-three were to appear, would you concede that they would have a hereditary claim to this system."

"As all members of that race long ago left this system and moved on, the event you speak of is improbable."

"But if it were possible, would you concede the claim."

"No. But it would give that creature a position from which to bargain. You have no such claim."

"On the contrary, your Majesty, I do have such a claim. Myself and my three companions are members of Species zero-zero-three."

"Impossible! You are five-six-one-eight! You are Human! You can not be perfection. You are flawed!"

"You're right. I am flawed. I am far from perfect. But I am Immortal."

"LIES! SEIZE THEM!"

Around the four person group that was Marius and his escorts, a gaseous cloud suddenly appeared. It was golden in color and it encompassed the four Immortals, preventing the nearby Borg drones from reaching them.

"STOP! I will not permit you primitives to harm my children!"

"WHAT ARE YOU?"

"_Egoo ani Anqueetu_. I am an Ancient. These are my children. You, Borg, are flawed creatures. You can never achieve what was a natural course of evolution for the Ancients. The First Ones, the Progenitors saw to this when they seeded the universe with their genetic code. The genetic predisposition towards Immortality was removed from all of the genetic code they seeded here. Immortality is not achievable by you. Accept it. You strive for perfection in a universe where none exists. The only thing you have succeeded in doing is turning the Borg Collective into the most hated species in the universe. You are, in the words of one of my children, genocidal sociopaths.

"YOU ARE NON-CORPOREAL. YOU HAVE NO NEED FOR THESE TECHNOLOGIES. WE HAVE NEED FOR THESE TECHNOLOGIES. THEY ENABLE US TO COME A STEP CLOSER TO OUR GOAL."

"You would deny my children these technologies which rightfully belong to them?"

"WE WILL CEDE ACCESS TO THESE TECHNOLOGIES ONLY TO A CORPOREAL EXAMPLE OF SPECIES ZERO-ZERO-THREE. WE WILL NEGOTIATE ONLY WITH A CORPOREAL ZERO-ZERO-THREE."

Marius touched the link on the back of his wrist and called the _Halsey_.

"Methos, I need you and Jack here. ASAP."

"We've been monitoring the channel. We're on our way."

----------------------------------------

On the bridge of the Federation _Sovereign_ class _Voyager_-A, there was a brilliant flash of light. Before Captain Chakotay or anyone else on the bridge could react, Admiral Janeway had been grabbed by Q.

"Hello Kathy. I trust all is well?"

"I wondered when you would turn up Q."

"I am here on behalf of the Q Continuum. Now that the Ancient has revealed himself to the Borg, the Q will be stepping in to act as a neutral arbitrator."

"I didn't think the Q would ever intervene in the affairs of us lesser beings, Q."

"Because the Borg have taken technologies belonging to the Ancients, and because those technologies have enabled them to advance much further than they would have naturally, the Q have decided to intervene at this point in time."

Q snapped his fingers and the bridge of _Voyager_ reappeared beneath Janeway's feet. Chakotay moved to her side as did Seven from the other side. The three of them were caught up in the next snap of Q's fingers. Another snap and O'Neill, Methos, and Marius disappeared from the Borg ship. Still another snap and the three Borg Queens disappeared from their positions on the Borg Diamond and on the bridge of the _Halsey_, only to reappear in a place unfamiliar to any of them. There were more flashes of light on various bridges of numerous ships. When the light receded, there were several others seated in what appeared to one and all as a viewing area. While those in the viewing area could see and hear what was to come, they could not interfere in the proceedings.

Janeway was seated at a table, curved along the front, with Chakotay and Annika seated to either side and slightly behind her. At a table opposite her were the three Borg Queens. Between the two was a third table, also inwardly curved along the front where Colonel Jack O'Neill was seated with Methos and Marius seated to either side and slightly behind him. Opposite him sat Q on what looked like a throne.

"Greetings to one and all. I am Q. Do not bother attempting to contact your vessels. They will never notice you missing. This is a conveniently located parallel dimension suitable to our needs. Time here has no meaning. Though time may seem to move for you here, your comrades will not notice the passage of time. When this arbitrage is completed and you return to your respective domains, no time will have passed."

"WHAT IS THIS PLACE? WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT US HERE?"

"Borg Queen, obviously you were not paying attention. You have been brought here by the Continuum to settle this matter of stolen technologies."

"THOSE TECHNOLOGIES AND THIS WORLD ARE THE PROPERTY OF THE BORG COLLECTIVE. THERE IS NOTHING TO SETTLE. THE NON-CORPOREAL BEING THAT CLAIMS TO BE A MEMBER OF SPECIES ZERO-ZERO-THREE HAS NOT PRODUCED THE CORPOREAL MEMBER OF THEIR SPECIES AS WAS REQUESTED."

"They did. You just were not paying attention. Primitive race that you are, you claim to be seeking perfection. If there is anything perfect in this galaxy, it is the Ancients. Flawed though they may be, they are what you seek. Yet it is the one thing you can never hope to achieve, biological perfection. The gene sequence that permits Immortality has been stripped out of every species in the galaxy. The Progenitors saw to it that this be the case. The Ancients were informed of this, such was the reason they left here. The Q were informed of this, and for this reason we have endeavored to keep the status quo in terms of genetic development. But allow me some latitude to demonstrate for the parties to this case the three possibilities that exist as a result of your war."

It seemed as though a screen came up all around the four tables, but it could better be described as a holographic environment. The scene showed the planet below and the fleets in attendance. There was a flash of light near a Federation _Steamrunner_ class starship as several pulsating beacons were ejected at a very high rate of speed. The pulsing beacons made straight for the planet where they entered the atmosphere in an indiscernible pattern before striking the ground and penetrating to some extreme depth and then exploding. The planet almost seemed to stop rotating for an instant before it bulged outward and exploded into countless thousands of fragments each no bigger than a standard basketball.

The Borg reacted quickly to this attack and attacked all of the ships in the system. Blue vortices opened up, taking more and more Borg vessels, but the Borg had the numbers on their side. Here and there, they captured Federation vessels, turning these ships against others in the Allied fleet. The AIS strike carrier and her escorts were taking a beating. In a bright flash of an explosion, the shields surrounding the _Halsey_ failed and the Borg poured dozens of torpedoes into the ship. Large chunks of the ship went flying off the _Halsey_ even as her escorts rushed in to aid their stricken comrade. The first to go was the _Cydonia_, named for the plain on Mars where the Colonial colony had been established. The shockwave from the exploding liquid naquadah engine enveloped the _O'Neill_, a _WhiteStar_ class heavy cruiser, and six Borg Spheres that had been attacking the cruiser.

The _Halsey_ was giving as much as it took. A lucky strike by a Borg torpedo launched from a captured _Steamrunner_, sliced the port deployment pod off the carrier at the docking ports, spilling atmosphere and soldiers into the cold hardness of space. An order was given, and the remaining ships of the Allied fleet escaped into hyperspace, with the _Halsey_ buying time for the escaping fleet. Four battlecruisers and the remaining _WhiteStar_ made the jump taking what remained of the fighter squadrons. The _Normandy_ and the _Nightingale_ remained behind to lend their support to the _Halsey_. The _Centaurum_ could neither make the jump nor lend any fire support. The bridge of that ship had been struck and she drifted lifelessly on the field of battle. _Scylla_ made the jump, but _Charybdis_ lay dark and lifeless, adrift in space.

Marius, Methos, and O'Neill watched as the Borg regrouped and began pouring heavy fire into the _Halsey_ and her remaining escorts. One by one, the escorts fell. The _Halsey_'s outer armor had been stripped away and the Borg cubes were carving up the carrier like a butcher working on a side of beef. Then the screen blanked for an instant.

The next scene showed a vastly different Borg armada headed towards sector zero-zero-one. The Federation and her allies and what remained of the AIS fleet did their best to hold the line, but lost. The battle was short and quick, with Vorlon cannons and Shadow beams tearing into the allied fleet, ripping ships apart and devastating the defense fleet. Everywhere, there were QSG equipped torpedoes entering Allied ships and exploding them from within. In a time span of less than ten minutes, the Allied fleet lay in ruins, and the Borg were beaming down to the surface of the Earth. The scene advanced rather quickly at that point, showing the Borgification of Earth first, followed by the major then minor member worlds of the Federation.

With the Federation under their control, and the industrial resources of over a thousand new worlds at their disposal, the Borg advanced quickly, taking Romulus, Quo'nos, and Cardassia Prime. The Dominion put up a token resistance before the Borg incinerated the world where the Founders lived, turning them and their world into ash. The Borg were unstoppable. In less than two standard Earth years, the Borg had taken control of the entire Milky Way _Galaxy_ using the transwarp network and hyperspace.

Then came what neither the Tau'ri, the Federation, or the Q wanted. A Borg vessel using a dimensional gateway and establishing footholds in galaxies where there was no race of sufficient power to stop them. It was a future that made the Borg in the room drool with anticipation and made the other humans in the room sick with dread. The Continuum in general, felt nothing, but Q the Judge felt the distress emanated by his son as he watched 'Aunt Kathy' become a Borg.

"That is one possible future that can occur as a result of events at this temporal juncture. What follows is another."

It was an almost identical scene to the one before. A _Steamrunner_ launching several torpedoes at the planet below and the subsequent explosion of said planet. The Borg attacked hard and fast, but lost the battle rather than winning it as they had in the previous event. The Allied fleet went on to win battle after battle and skirmish after skirmish, until the final Borg outpost had been obliterated. The Allied fleet returned home, battered, and smaller than when they had set out, but victorious.

The _Halsey_ had suffered such a high rate of personnel loss over the course of the four year war with the Borg, that it was almost entirely crewed by Federation personnel. When the _Halsey_ pulled up to the Federation station in Earth orbit, strike teams from the Federation boarded the ship and took control of it from the remaining Immortals and Tau'ri. The Federation had wanted wormhole technology ever since the _Halsey_ had first appeared in their space, and with the majority of the Tau'ri crew now dead, they took the opportunity to take what they saw as necessary steps. Wormholes solved the Federation needs for extreme long distance travel. In a matter of years, the Federation had absorbed the remnants of the Klingon, Romulan, and Cardassian empires. A year after the last Cardassian outpost had been taken, the Dominion fell silent with the incineration of the Founders home world.

The next scene saw Federation exploration ships making the long jump via ShipGate to the nearest galaxy. They established a foothold in that new and unexplored area of the universe. More ships came, loaded with colonists for the new world, and with the raw materials needed to build a massive station and an elaborate set of shipyards. It was an uninhabited system on the edge of a vast galactic empire. An empire that had been quite content to stay where they were and had no desire to leave their galaxy. But one of their exploration ships entered this foothold system and discovered the Federation ships. First Contact went badly and resulted in the destruction of the exploration vessel.

The last scene showed the Federation home world as a lifeless hunk of rock adrift in a lifeless system of planets. Large ships were crossing through Federation space with no one to oppose them. The major worlds of what had once been a power that had stretched across all four quadrants of the Milky Way, lay lifeless and dark. This enemy had been thorough. Not a trace of the works of man could be found on any world.

"That was a second possible run of events. The third, is entirely up to you. Though it may be true that there are an infinite number of possibilities in terms of possible outcomes, they all will end with either a Borg Universe, or with the Federation meeting its eventual doom at the hands of enemies far more insidious that the Borg."

The Borg seemed quiet and introspective for the moment, as did the Federation. Janeway was appalled at what her counterparts would do to get their hands on the technology to control wormholes. With one scenario, the Borg came out as the victors in a war, and with the second, the Federation came out on top only to fall to an enemy far more vicious than the Borg.

It was Jack O'Neill who spoke first.

"Well, wasn't that just something! On the one hand, we have the Borg over there who keep saying that resistance is futile. One the other hand, we have backstabbing Federation types who want what we have. Quite a pickle, ain't it? Maybe the time is right to strike a deal, yes?"

"SILLY HUMAN. WE WANT TO SPEAK WITH THE ANCIENT. NOT YOU."

"Well now, that's just too bad. Ya see, some years ago, Tok'Ra, in all his wisdom, slimed me. I became an Ancient when he passed through me in a sort of dimensional hug. He did it so that his son, Methos, would have a companion for eternity. Now, I'm not the kind of guy that looks a gift horse in the mouth, but what the hey? Immortality is all well and good, but I was so looking forward to dieing in my sleep a few decades from now."

"YOU EXPECT US TO BELIEVE THAT YOU ARE AN ANCIENT?"

"Silly pathetic Borg. He expects you to believe what is true and apparent especially to the Q. Though we believe the Ancients could have made a better choice than such a primitive human, I can see why they would choose him. His intellect puts to shame anything the Borg Collective could muster. The fact that his gray matter has previously held the sum total of knowledge as collected by the Ancients, leads the Continuum to believe that this version of the human species is far more advanced than their Federation cousins. Without a doubt, there exists none in the Federation who could have handled a download of that size and magnitude."

"Uhm thanks. I think. I'm not sure if I've just been insulted or not. You have a strange way of speaking Q. While I'm at it, where is M?"

"Such a sense of humor! If a bit twisted. I'm sorry, but M is the next dimension over. In any case, I for one, am eager to hear how an Ancient would solve this matter."

"Ha and ha. Is there a solution? Cause if there is, it's hard to see with all the rhetorical bullshit flying about. But here's what I think. First, the Borg, and just how in the hell did you come up with a name like that anyway? But as I was saying, first the Borg need to give up the techs that belong to the Ancients. They need to evacuate the world that was and is their outpost, and I mean evacuate completely. Then we'll go down and take back what is ours. The Borg must completely wipe out any databanks that have information regarding the Ancients technologies.

"Second, the Federation and the Borg need to sit down at a table and discuss their differences. Maybe the AIS can mediate a peace treaty that would be beneficial to both parties.

"Then, we can leave this place and leave you to your lives. That's all I have to say on this."

"Wise words, oh Ancient. It would behoove the Borg and the Federation to listen to them."

"Question for ya Q, if I may? Can the Q insure that all of the knowledge of the Ancients is purged from the Borg computers? Can you make them forget they ever encountered such tech?"

"It is a grandiose task you request, but if they agree to the first and second stipulations, then we will make sure that all such knowledge is removed from this dimension."

"Thanks. So what do you say? Are you two willing?"

"The Federation is willing to negotiate."

"The Borg are also willing to negotiate. We will not, however, give up those technologies. We will order the evacuation of the planet below."

"Well, that's a start."

Q allowed the parties present to communicate with their respective ships. A general stand down from open warfare was ordered by the Allied fleet as well as by the Borg. Borg vessels in orbit around the planet began beaming up the inhabitants in large numbers. It would take time, but the planet would soon be empty of life. Marius took the time to pass along an order to Alex to send a team down to the planet. A team that should include Major Carter, so that she could ensure the Ancient's technologies were retrieved. He also ordered Alex to take anything and everything on the planet that looked remotely important, and even those items that looked exceedingly ordinary.

Here and there, on the holographic screens present in the room, Federation shuttles flitted to and fro, picking up escape pods. The Borg were using this lull to re-position their ships, and the Federation was doing the same. Damaged ships were sent to the rear of the fleet, and those that were fully operational or nearly so, were moved to the front and flanks of the fleet spearhead. Crews on the _Halsey_ were busily putting spare shield generators into operation, trying to bring at least some shield coverage to the most critical areas of the ship.

"Ok, well that's a start. Now we just need to hear what both sides want to offer to the other, or demand of each other. Q? How should we do this? Draw straws? Flip a coin? How do we determine who speaks first?"

"Since we are presently located in Borg space, what say we allow the Borg to speak first?"

"Sounds good to me. Borg Queen? You're up first."

"Ancient one. The Humans are fortunate to have you as their leader."

"Wrong on that one, Borg. I'm not their leader. I'm just a cog in the military chain of command. I answer to a civilian leadership."

"But you speak for them here?"

"What do you say, Admiral? Can I speak for you? I'll put you in for a commendation? Come on, what do you say?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Well then. I guess I speak for the Tau'ri on this matter. But I don't speak for the Federation. That's a whole other can of worms."

"You have a most peculiar sense of humor, Ancient one."

"Quit calling me that. Makes me feel real old."

"Very well. What is your designation?"

"My name is Jack O'Neill. I'm a Colonel in the United States Air Force. Commanding officer of SG-1, and second in command for the SGC."

"O'Neill. We shall use that designation, if that is allowable."

"Fine by me."

"We shall begin with the history of the Borg. Five thousand years ago, the first one was created. Species zero-zero-one were both the creators and the first race we assimilated. They were an advanced race that wanted to explore the far reaches of the _Galaxy_. But they could not. An accident rendered most of the home world of species 001 uninhabitable. They were already experimenting with cybernetic organisms. A scientist took the opportunity to meld the inanimate with the organic. The result was what the Federation would call a cybernetic organism, or cyborg. The programmed mandates have always been the same. Seek perfection. Assimilate all. With the passage of time, the name was shortened to Borg. But we were still limited to our home system.

"Decades passed before we made contact with another race. We took from them, the ability to travel the stars. For many more decades, we built up our first fleets, and explored the space immediately around our home system. Then we came to this world beneath us. Our first scout ship, primitive by our standards today, was obliterated upon entering the system. It sent a distress call which was answered by one of our larger battleships. Upon entering the system, it too was destroyed. We named the species there, though as yet unseen, Species zero-zero-three.

"Over the centuries that followed, we sent more and more ships to explore other systems, eventually encountering Species one-five-nine, from which we obtained the secret of nanotechnology. With this new science, we remade ourselves into what we are today. But still, the assimilation into our confederation of worlds was lacking Species 003. We made more attempts, but all failed. In the years since we finally assimilated that planet, no other species had been as resistant to assimilation, until we encountered the Federation.

"It wasn't until the Collective had assimilated its thousandth species that we were able to withstand the defenses in this system. We subdued the defensive systems and landed on the planet below to find it empty of any life. It was a conundrum that vexed us. Two more centuries passed before we could decipher the writings on the walls there. And two more still before we could begin to understand that the species here had not died as we had first thought, but rather, they had left. We also discovered that they were Immortal, that they could live forever. This became our goal, to be like them, to become them. We were programmed to seek perfection. The Borg equated perfection with Immortality. It became the very ideal to which all Borg have since aspired; Immortality. Perfection."

"And of course, you wanted all species to share in that Immortality bit, right? Well let me tell you that it's not all that it's cracked up to be. Living forever sounds well and good, but my two friends here tell me it's a real downer."

"But how can this not be a most excellent thing to pursue?"

"Adam? You want to answer that?"

"Thanks Jack. So you think Immortality is perfection? Never having to face death, never growing old. Living for eternity. You think this is perfection? Think again. For a mortal human, becoming an artist is a life choice. For an Immortal, that's just a hobby to help pass the years. In my lifetime, I've had many, many wives. I've been a slave owner. I've been a slave. I've raised dozens of children, but I can not have any of my own. No Immortal can. I've outlived every one of my wives. Knowing that their lives are but flickers in our own, how can an Immortal take a mortal wife? Because the years are far too long to be that lonely. Ours is a solitary existence. Fear. Paranoia. Terror. We experience these as much as any mere mortal. Why? You want to know why we experience these symptoms? Because of who we are. Mortals tend to want to categorize everything. Place things and people into neat little cubbyholes. Unfortunately, Immortals don't fit nicely into that perfect world in their minds. If you seriously think Immortality is perfection, then I have serious doubts about the sanity of your race."

"Thanks Adam. Couldn't have said it better myself."

"It's the truth Jack."

"Your son is wise, Tok'Ra. Much of what he stated can be the same for the Continuum. We are long lived, true. But the one difference between us, is that we can have children."

"IF IMMORTALITY IS NOT PERFECTION, THEN WHAT IS PERFECTION?"

"Perfection is a state of mind, oh Queens of the Borg. Perfection is in the eye of the beholder. Perfection is to you what something full of flaws is to me. A person's perspective changes the image of perfection. There is no such thing as perfection because every person's ideal of perfection is different."

It was as if an imaginary hand had slapped the three Queens of the Borg, hard. The recognition of the truth as they now saw it. The sudden insight plainly evident on their faces. The moment when they realized that perfection was unreachable and unattainable. It was a sobering moment of gestalt.

"IF PERFECTION IS WHAT ONE MAKES OF IT, THEN HOW DO WE STOP SEEKING IT?"

"Quit. Cold turkey. I don't think there is any substitution therapy for this one. But here's a few ideas. First, make amends for everything you've done in the name of perfection. Second, and this ties in to the first, allow all of the drones in the Collective to undergo the de-Borgification process. After a period of five years as a normal being, if they so choose, they may re-join the Borg, but by then you'll no longer be a Collective in the sense you are today."

"EXPLAIN."

"I think the Federation have shown that your former Borg drones, once stripped of all their cybernetic accoutrements, can function as individuals. Lieutenant Commander Hansen is an example of that. In order to make amends for all the criminal actions the Collective has taken over the centuries, you must release all but one-hundredth of one percent of your drones. Under this plan, you will retain a very small number of drones, but you will cease to be a matriarchal dictatorship. Perhaps you should review the various forms of government and choose one that will enable you to make the most progress in the least amount of time.

"Third, the Collective will immediately mothball ninety percent of the vessels under their control. These mothballed ships will eventually either be salvaged for their materials, or added to the Allied fleet for peace-keeping duties. The Collective will retain ten percent of the total number of vessels as a local defense force.

"Fourth, the remaining members of the Collective will assist the newly liberated former Borg worlds in their de-assimilation. The Collective will provide aid to those worlds, in conjunction with the Federation in assisting those former Borg worlds in becoming independent.

"Fifth, you will turn over any and all technologies the Borg or the Collective found both on the planet below, and in this system in general. You will erase every trace of data regarding these technologies from your archives; all of your archives. Then, and only when we are sure that no trace of these technologies remain, will we do what is necessary and destroy the world beneath us.

"Finally, should any former Borg world, once it becomes independent and is capable of supporting interstellar trade decide that it wants to join the Federation as a member world then it shall be allowed to do so, provided it undergoes whatever procedure the Federation has in place for normal membership requests. If that former Borg world decides to re-join the Collective then it will be allowed to do so.

"What do you say, Q? Think this plan of mine will work?"

"For a primitive human, even a newly minted Ancient, you seem to have come up with a bold and far reaching plan. One that will be difficult at best to implement. Have anything to add, Kathy?"

"The Federation wishes only for peaceful relations with our neighbors. Warfare is always a last resort. While it is true that Federation history is rife with wars, and while true that Earth history itself is colored with numerous wars, it is also true that we of the Federation are trying to move forward and learn from our past mistakes. Unlike the Tau'ri, we do not respond to unknown situations with gunfire. They are shining examples of the type of barbarians our ancestors were once like. There is no place for them in our universe. There is no place for them anywhere."

"Lady, you are so full of shit your eyes are brown! The only reason you are even here is because there are men and women like myself who are willing to lay down their lives so that you can go about your peace loving ignorant life. You are alive today because there were men and women in your history like myself that stood watch along a fence line or in a tower to preserve your way of life. If they could see you know, these ancestors, I'm sure they'd be spinning in their graves at what you have become. What you have now is probably the best example of an idealistic communistic society. All of you work together for the good of the state. Your society did away with money. Your society did away with capitalism. Your society did away with everything that makes Tau'ri society worth fighting for.

"I can't imagine any world where I would rather die by my own hand, than to live like a sheep."

"ENOUGH! It seems obvious, even to me as a Q, that these two examples of humanity originating from Earth, are very different from one another. Had there been an influence on the Federation Earth that the Tau'ri Earth had in the form of the Goa'uld, then perhaps the local version of humanity would be different. But they fought an atomic war and didn't make First Contact with an extra terrestrial species until 2063. On the other hand, the Tau'ri made first contact with an extra terrestrial species when that species went to the Tau'ri Earth sometime around 10,000 B.C. Janeway, you should feel safe in the knowledge that the war these Tau'ri are fighting has been on-going for at least twelve thousand of their years.

"If there are no other objections, then this treaty is concluded. The Q Continuum is taking a vested interest in these proceedings. We will make certain that all parties to this treaty adhere to the guidelines laid down here today. Any violation of this treaty will be met with swift reprisal by the Continuum. Is that clearly understood?"

"The Borg will comply."

"The Federation is in agreement."

"Sounds good to me. So, does this mean we can go home now?"

"Tok'Ra, you have fulfilled your promise to the Continuum. Your task here is complete."

"It is. I sincerely hope that the Continuum can do what it says it will. I trust that we are now, as the Tau'ri say, even."

"We are, Tok'Ra."

With a snap of his fingers, Q returned all of the parties to their ships of origin. The impact of the meeting was felt at once. The Borg stood down from their millennia long goal of perfection through assimilation and warfare. The Federation stood down from their attacks in Borg space. The Borg queens formed a new intermediate type of government. Instead of one person in charge, the three of them would take command as a triumvirate. It was a temporary stop gap measure until such time as the Federation could assist them in reforming their government. Fortunately, that was outside the purview of the _Halsey_.

"Mr. Jameson, damage reports, if you please."

"We gave as good as we got. Engines and shields are still down. We're down to minimal stores of trinium and naquadah. I've had the sensor officer looking for a world with these minerals, but no luck as yet. Lieutenant Phillipson reported all complete on the planet. They are conducting a quick search of the previously unopened Ancient's storage vaults looking for anything else that might be helpful. The Federation has started taking their crews back. It's going to leave us shorthanded and dramatically so."

"Very good, Mr. Jameson. Weapon's status?"

"Main guns are off-line. The control circuits melted in the battle. Ninety percent of the anti-fighter turrets were destroyed. The losses to our squadrons was heavy. Combined with the previous losses to our ground fighting forces, the _Halsey_ will be hard pressed in any new battles."

"We will do what we can for now. First priority is engines and shields. Assign enough engineering crews to get those systems up as soon as possible. Then we'll worry about weapons. I'll be in my office. Adam, you have the bridge."

"Aye, Marius."

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The losses in the air wing of the _Halsey_ had been severe. There were three, perhaps four squadrons left intact. The fate of the fourth squadron was pending the completion of SAR operations still ongoing. But even if the SAR teams found all of the pilots alive, it would mean a severely crippled air wing. Their supplies were almost gone. Though it pained him to do so, he had very little choice but to contact the Federation for assistance in locating the mineral resources they needed.

"Comms, open a channel to the Ferengi station for me. I want to speak to the station master. Route it through to my office."

"Aye sir."

Federation or Ferengi. Which was the lesser of two evils?

"Channel open sir."

"Thank you."

"Admiral Marius I presume. I am Tog, station master of the Ferengi trade station. How can we mutually increase our profit today?"

"Greetings Tog. You are familiar with the minerals trinium and naquadah?"

"I have heard of these. You wish to place an order?"

"I do. How much do you have?"

"Enough to fill the storage pods on your impressive vessel four times over."

"Good. What would you like in return?"

"The secret of the gate network."

"The secret of the gate network. I see. Well, perhaps if you sweeten the deal, we can come to an arrangement?"

"I am told you also require a radioactive form of naquadah called naquadria? I have some of that available as well. Will that make our deal sweet enough?"

"Still a bit bitter for my tastes. You are aware of the fact that the Federation will not share certain technologies with us? They have provided us with what they have termed first generation anti-matter generators. They will not even allow us access to what their own historical databanks call the Cochrane drive. Perhaps if you add in the engineering schematics for this drive unit and for basic shields, along with the designs for photon torpedoes and phaser weapons, that will be sweet enough."

"That deal may now be too rich for me to complete."

"Well, perhaps this will help. Two engagements ago, our landing forces came across a series of vaults on a Borg world. We think perhaps these vaults were used by the former inhabitants to store precious metals, but my scientists have not been able to identify the liquid metal we found therein. The vaults were drained into barrels and these barrels were shipped up to the _Nightingale_. The science staff aboard the _Halsey_ managed to identify the chemical structure. I don't know if our science is compatible with yours, but here's the formula. Let me know if you want it. If not, there might be something else I can add to the deal."

Tog looked at the screen with the chemical formula displayed on it. Had he been human he might have pinched himself!

"Admiral, I believe I do have a customer in mind for that liquid metal you have. Just how much are we talking about?"

"Well, as I said, we found it in the storage vaults of one of the Borg worlds we captured. The vaults were behind a heavy force field, and we figured it was something important, but all we found was enough of this liquid metal to fill twelve thousand barrels of this metal."

"Did you say twelve thousand? I shall have to contact the Grand Nagus to see if he has a customer for that much of this metal. As a show of good faith, I will transfer enough of the metals and minerals you require to effect repairs to, I believe the name of the vessel is, _Normandy_."

----------------------------------------

Stationmaster Tog was an average Ferengi, but even he knew that twelve thousand barrels of liquid latinum would upset the galactic economy to a degree unprecedented before today. So much latinum flooding the market would make that metal almost worthless. This was something way above his usual trade. He had no choice but to contact the Nagus.

"Tog! You shriveled up lump of beetle dung! Why are you contacting me on a secure frequency?"

"Grand Nagus, the Hew-man named Marius has made a request for some items. In return he has offered to pay with some liquid latinum that his people found on a conquered Borg world."

"And?"

"Twelve thousand barrels of it!"

"That much latinum entering the market would destabilize trade for decades! What is on his list of items?"

"Naquadah, naquadria, trinium, titanium. Some first generation Federation technology, including phase cannons, photonic torpedoes, the Cochrane drive, and shields so primitive even a child would laugh! They ask for this because the Federation will not give them anything. Their Prime Directive!"

"I see. What news of the front?"

"The Borg have surrendered!"

"Excellent! New markets and you are in the best place to build a monopoly! I will go there myself to oversee these negotiations. You will, of course, get a percentage of the deal."

"Thank you, Nagus."

----------------------------------------

"Bridge, this is the Admiral. The Ferengi will be making deliveries to us over the next several days. Use the materials as they become available to effect repairs to the _Normandy_. Put all engineering teams on the repairs. Have the remaining squadron leaders report to the officer's mess in thirty minutes. Ask SG-1 and Colonel Starbuck to attend as well."

"Aye sir. Bridge out."

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_**Officer's Mess**_

"Ladies and gentlemen, we seem to have a problem. I've seen the casualty lists, and as much as I hate to do this, I'm standing down from flight operations effective immediately. We just don't have the pilots available to bring our forces back up to full strength. With the war against the Borg now over, the Federation have recalled their flight crews from the _Halsey_ and from our support vessels. Our ground forces have been decimated as well and we now have only one combined forces unit as opposed to the two units we started out with."

"Sir, I have an idea."

"The floor is yours Major Carter."

"If we can borrow the Federation Holoship, then we might be able to train new flight crews. At the very least we can train up a number of crews to boost our limited forces."

"Explain your concept Major. It was my impression that it took at least a year to train a crew for combat flight duties."

"Under normal circumstances it takes longer than that. But these aren't normal circumstances. With the inertial dampeners in our planes, the need to learn about techniques to combat high-gravity stress is not important. With the automation levels of our planes, the need for the crews to watch every single gauge and screen is obsolete. A highly trained crew would need to worry about that, but we don't have that luxury; to train them fully that is. So what I propose is to use the Holoship to create a virtual space combat game simulation, with progressively harder levels and more adaptive enemies. The ones that advance will be transitioned into real aircraft. The ones that don't will still have their regular duties."

"Ok. Anyone else have any ideas?"

"Take the existing squadrons and break them up. If we go with Major Carter's plan, then we need to have experienced squadron leaders at the helm of these rookies. Break up the existing squadrons and make the current pilots in to flight leaders."

"Excellent suggestion Starbuck!"

"Thank you sir. Just trying to do my bit."

"Anyone else?"

"I request permission to take nine of the best rated crews that will come out of Major Carter's new training program. I will take these nine crews and give them additional training as a precision strike force. I request the creation of a new fighter that can combine the firepower of an _Al'kesh_ and the maneuverability of a _Thunderbolt_."

"A bold plan and a bold request, Teal'c. It is no wonder why you were ranked as First Prime. If that's all you have, then we go with Major Carter's plan. I'll make the request of the Federation for a limited time use of the Holoship. Major Carter, I'll need you to be ready the moment the ship arrives in local space."

"Aye sir."

"Anything else?"

"If we pull all fighters from the other ships in the fleet, then form up new squadrons, we could probably field at least one squadron per ship. It's not much, but for those ships that have lost their own squadrons, it's at least something."

"Good idea, Colonel. Take care of that will you?"

"Yeahsureyoubetcha!"

----------------------------------------

_**Four weeks later**_

_**Borg Space**_

_**System of the First World**_

It took the better part of a week for the Federation Holoship to arrive in the system and four full days and nights for Major Carter and her staff to program the holographic imaging systems with the desired combat simulation. Mid way through the second week, the first batch of potential recruits went through the simulation. It was advertised on every bulletin board aboard the _Halsey_. Anyone that wanted to could apply for the program. After a three hour introduction to the combat systems of the F-302, the recruits were let loose in individualized combat missions. The simulation was so real, that a few pilots got space sick in the first few moments of the program.

Of the first batch of ninety recruits, ten washed out as soon as they entered the simulation because of violent motion sickness. The remaining eighty advanced through the first few levels without much incident. The next phase of training put two planes in the same simulation as a way to show the pilots how to work together in combat. The recruits faced Jaffa pilots in Goa'uld Death Gliders, Federation _Peregrine_-class fighters, and their eventual flight leaders in _Thunderbolt_s.

By the time the first week of training was complete, only forty crews had survived the crash course in flight instruction. These forty went on to the next level, while a new batch of three hundred went into the first phase. The second phase of training was in formation and squadron flight operations in the F-302. Here they put the new pilots through their paces, flying tight and loose formations, trying to build up a sense of teamwork and camaraderie, attempting to demonstrate to them the benefit of flying with a wingman or three. The veterans tried to show them flying tricks to use when faced with long odds, techniques that would keep them alive long enough to get help from another flight crew.

At the end of the third week of training, ten crews had been identified for Teal'c's special squadron. They transitioned from the F-302s to the _Thunderbolt_ fighters with little difficulty. Teal'c put them through their paces, learning about atmospheric flight, how to use their nose cannon to the best effect, and strafing runs in support of ground troops.

The training program on the Holoship had worked to a good level of success with a full three hundred and ten flight crews surviving the training program, out of seven hundred that made the attempt.

The training was going exceptionally well, and morale was holding steady, so it was some surprise when Commander Roberts appeared in Marius' office.

"Commander Roberts. Is there a problem?"

"Maybe, sir. It seems that two of the SAS men aboard want to remain behind in this place. They claim they've fallen in love with a couple of local women. A Klingon female and a, uhm, Betazed female."

"Uhm, ok. So what's the usual procedure when military personnel decide to marry a local?"

"On Earth, the woman in question, women in this case, could apply for citizenship and emigrate to the homelands of their spouses, or the personnel in question can, if they have enough time in service, request separation from their units and stay in whatever country they found the woman of their dreams. But this is not that case. If they remain behind, odds are they'll never be able to return home. If their chosen women decide to come with us, there's no guarantee the men they've chosen will survive until we get home."

"There are no guarantees in life, Mr. Roberts. Who are these two soldiers?"

"Douglas and Robert MacShane."

"Brothers?"

"First cousins actually."

"I see. Well, bring them in to see me. I'd like to talk to them, find out their intentions before we contact the respective governments of the women involved."

"They're in your outer office, sir."

"Very well. Show them in Commander."

"Gentlemen, be at ease."

"Sir!"

"Commander Roberts tells me the two of you want to get married?"

"Aye sir! But not to each other, sir!"

"No, he did mention there are two women involved."

"Yes sir!"

"And what are your intentions, gentlemen?"

"We wish to be married sir!"

"I know that. I meant for afterwards. Do you wish to remain here, with no chance of ever seeing your families again? Or would you want your brides-to-be to join you on this ship and prevent them from ever seeing their families again?"

"We hadna thought about that, sahr."

"I thought as much. Where did you meet these women?"

"Morga served on the _Halsey_ in the last battle. She was part of the Klingon detachment."

"Triessa was assigned to the _Halsey_ as part of the medical staff sir."

"Just how serious are you two about getting hitched?"

"Quite serious sir. We know that the _Halsey_ will be moving on soon. We wish to get married as soon as possible. Then we'll cross the next bridge when we come to it."

"Very well. I'll contact their respective governments and ask if they'll permit the marriages to take place."

"Thank you sir!"

"Go on. Git!"

----------------------------------------

"Comms officer, open a channel to _Quo'nos One_. I need to speak to Chancellor Martok."

"Aye sir. Channel open sir."

"Martok."

"Marius. I have received glowing reports from the Klingon detachment recently departed from your vessel concerning your man Alexander. The Klingon commander wishes to know if all of your race fight as well as he?"

"Alexander is like me, Chancellor. He is an Immortal. One can not have survived for centuries without knowing how to fight. But I shall pass along the praise. He had equally good things to say about your warriors. He told me that had he had even ten of your Klingons when he was in power so many centuries ago, he would have been even greater than he was. But that is not the point of this call."

"Oh? How may the Empire be of service to you this day?"

"It seems one of my men, an SAS Sergeant-Major by name of Robert MacShane, has fallen in love with one of the female Klingons that was stationed aboard the _Halsey_. Her name, I believe, is Morga. He has asked for my permission to allow them to marry. Ordinarily I would allow such a thing to happen, however, as we are not from this universe, it has made things a bit difficult. I am in need of your advice."

"Love is a strange thing, Marius. It can strengthen a man as well as cripple him. But why does this matter vex you so?"

"The marriage does not trouble me. It's what happens afterward that concerns me. Should he choose to remain here with his bride, he will never be able to return home. Should his bride choose to join him on the _Halsey_, the same will apply to her. More so, the Earth I am from is still fractured into nation-states. There are people on my Earth that would stop at nothing to experiment on an alien race. I know this, because they have attempted this very experimentation on me."

"I see. This is a matter I will discuss with Morga as soon as possible. But I feel that both she and her chosen mate will make the right decision for them."

"I wish I had your confidence, Chancellor."

----------------------------------------

"Comms officer, I need another channel opened. Admiral Janeway, if you please."

"Aye sir. Channel open sir."

"Admiral. I trust all is well?"

"As well as can be expected. It seems as though the Borg are holding up their end of the treaty quite well. They have released from the Collective several hundred worlds already. Federation aid teams are scrambling about trying to make contact with all of those worlds. I fear it will be a monumental task."

"But one that has been a long time in coming, no?"

"True. How goes the training program?"

"Quite well actually. At the end of this week, we will graduate three hundred and ten crews from the program. Major Carter tells me the holodeck simulations have worked far better than expected. Such a shame you won't trade that technology with us. But that is not the point of this call, I'm afraid."

"What seems to be the problem, Admiral?"

"One of my troopers, a Color-Sergeant by name of Douglas MacShane has fallen in love with one of the replacement medical personnel you sent over to us before the last engagement. She's a Betazed as I understand it. Triessa, I believe is the name. He has asked for permission to be married to her. Ordinarily I wouldn't have any problem with one of my crew asking for this, however, as we are from another universe, this presents a problem. Either he remains here with his bride and never return home, or she joins him and then she can never return home. Since she is a Federation citizen, I thought perhaps you might have a solution for me?"

"I will have to contact the Betazed home world to see if her family will permit this union. She is of the Eighth House. Her family is part of the ruling class there."

"I see. That might make things more difficult."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Admiral, I must ask something of you that is totally unrelated to this matter."

"By all means, go ahead."

"The Federation has been trying, for several decades, to create a technology that will allow us to form a directional wormhole. Then your ship appeared and while you are technologically less advanced than the Federation, you do possess the technology that we seek. I have been empowered by the Federation Council to obtain this technology. You have expressed an interest in our holographic technology. Is there anything else that you would like?"

"Weapons technology."

"I'm afraid we can't do that."

"Violation of your Prime Directive, yes?"

"That is correct."

"Does it still apply though we are from another universe?"

"It still applies."

"I see. How about medical technology, then?"

"Depends on what you have in mind?"

"Your EMH program is of interest to us, as are your standard medical tri-corders and other basic medical tech."

"But you can bring a person back from the dead. Why would you want something as simple as a dermal or bone regenerator?"

"Because the vast majority of Earth and Mars do no have access to our sarcophagi. These are extremely limited in number. In fact, the ones we have aboard the _Halsey_ are on loan to us from Lord Yu. The sarcophagi also have a rather noticeable side effect. Prolonged or repeated exposure to the inner mechanisms affects the mind of the user, like a drug. We track usage of the device, and can not allow a person to use it more than ten times, or else risk severe psychotic episodes."

"I see. That could be a problem, the psychosis I mean. I shall transfer a medical instrument database to you, provided that is all you require?"

"One more thing. We would like your duo-tronic computer systems. Such a thing would mean reduced workloads for my crew. As we are operating at less than half-strength, we would definitely have a need for that."

"You realize that we can only give to you second generation equipment."

"Admiral, even second generation duo-tronic computer equipment is light years ahead of our computing systems."

"Very well. I shall ask Starfleet to send out enough equipment to retrofit your current systems aboard the _Halsey_. Beyond that, we will grant you the design schematics for creating more of the same for your other vessels."

"Very good. Then I believe we are in agreement. We'll transmit the specs of the wormhole devices as soon as the retrofit is completed?"

"That is acceptable. In the meantime, I will speak with Triessa, and with her family on Betazed."

"Thank you Admiral."

----------------------------------------

_**A few hours later**_

"Admiral, there's a Ferengi vessel wishing to dock. The Grand Nagus is aboard."

"Allow it to dock, then have the Nagus escorted to my offices."

"Aye sir."

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"Grand Nagus. Welcome. I had not expected to see you again?"

"I would not have come here at all, but Stationmaster Tog tells me you have some liquid metal you wish to part ways with. I believe you know what it is?"

"I know that it's valuable. Very valuable. I know that releasing the amount I told Tog we had in our stores would destabilize most planetary economies. But in truth, Nagus, I have three times as much of this latinum as I told Tog."

"Three times as much? Oh my. Shall we begin negotiations?"

"Yes. Let us begin. You already know, of course, that the Federation will not trade any of their technology to us. I had hoped to come from this place with something I could use to fight our enemy at home, but they are being quite stubborn in their resolve."

"It has been my unfortunate experience as well, Admiral."

"Please, call me Marius."

"Rom. My name is Rom."

"Ok, Rom. Weapons technology is high on our priority list, but so are the materials necessary to effect repairs to our ships and bring our fighter squadrons back up to full strength. So let us begin there."

"Our shipyards have the patterns necessary to build any of the ships in your fleet. Any of the traditional ships that is. Unfortunately we can not build the organic hulls you also use."

"We'll build the organic hulls to fit over the standard armor of our ships. That's not a problem concerning this deal."

"Very good. What type of ships would you like for us to build? And how many of each?"

"Let's start with a second _Nova_-class dreadnought, with a full compliment of thirty-six fighters."

"That is not a problem for us."

"Ok. The _Jeep_-class carriers we asked the Federation to build for us worked exceptionally well. But in the war so recently fought, we lost almost all of them. How about we start with four of those."

"Not a problem. More?"

"Another ship like the _Nightingale_. Six more _Olympus_-class corvettes to replace the ones we've lost in battle. Two more of our _Omega_-class destroyers, and a pair of _Hyperion_-class heavy cruisers."

"At current market prices, that will cost you six thousand barrels of liquid latinum. Is there more on your order?"

"There's more. Tell me Rom, how do the races of this galaxy prepare a world for colonization?"

"I can not speak to the other races, but the Ferengi Alliance launches a colony ship towards a designated target. The ship carries terraforming arrays which can transform an uninhabited planet and make it ready to receive colonists. The ship will also carry enough supplies and equipment to supply the colony until it becomes self-sufficient."

"I see. What type of ship would that be?"

"It's a highly modified _D'Kora_-class transport. The _D'Kora_-class is the backbone of our fleet. It is available in many configurations. One of these is as a colony ship, with room for five hundred colonists and their equipment."

"Excellent. We'll add six of those to our order. We also need to replace a few of our shuttles. And we have need for a dedicated scout ship, and a dedicated freighter. What can you recommend along these lines?"

"The vessel you used as a carrier was originally a freighter. We can easily build a few more for you. As to a scout ship, there are several options. The Federation has a civilian version of the _Oberth_-class that we have the designs for. We can easily build these for you and you can arm them however you wish."

"What's the crew compliment of an _Oberth_?"

"The civilian model is eighty crew."

"Doesn't the Federation ever do anything small? No, I was thinking more along the lines of maybe a crew of five to ten."

"Then what you want is something more along the lines of what the Federation calls a _Danube_-class runabout. It is warp capable and can be crewed by as little as one person, though two is generally a better option. Weapons are up to you."

"What is the speed of the _Danube_?"

"The Federation _Danube_ can run at a maximum warp speed of four point seven, but we can install a Ferengi warp drive and jump that to warp 7 or perhaps slightly better."

"And this brings my total to what now?"

"Eighteen thousand barrels. But you still have more, yes?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

"I think I have enough ships now. Let's look at personal equipment."

"Very well. The Ferengi maintain an extensive catalog of military and civilian equipment."

"Good. I'm sure you can meet all my needs then. First thing we need is to replenish all of our food stocks, and of course, to stock all of the new ships with food. Next, disruptor rifles or phaser rifles. Tanks. Shielded personnel carriers. Artillery units."

"Twenty-four thousand barrels."

"Holographic technology. Medical technology. Computer technology. Replicator technology."

"Those last four, do you want just the schematics or working examples? Or both?"

"Complete schematics and working examples."

"Thirty thousand."

"Still six thousand left. Any suggestions?"

"I'm sure we can come up with something."

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A few months later it had been three years to the day that they had arrived in this particular universe. The repairs to the _Halsey_ and her escorts had been completed, and the cargo holds on the _Halsey_ and her escorts had been fully refilled. The AIS fleet had grown considerably. A new _Nova_-class dreadnought, the _Ardennes_, had been added to the fleet. A new _Nightingale_-class also joined their ranks; the _Attendant_. A total of six _Jeep_-class light carriers had been built; the _Langley_, _Yorktown_, _Ranger_, _Wasp_, _Hornet_, and _Forrestal_. The six new _Olympus_-class corvettes had been christened the _Poseidon_, _Zeus_, _Hera_, _Athena_, _Ares_, and _Furies_. The _Chimera_ and the _Hydra_ joined their two sister destroyers in the Alliance battle group, along with the two _Hyperions_ which had been named the _Lexington_ and the _Concord_. Six _D'Kora_-class colony ships had been added to the growing fleet, but they were as yet unnamed and had very little to offer in the way of guns.

Through a typographical error on the ship order, the Ferengi had built eight freighters, not the four that had been requested. But the AIS went ahead and took delivery of the extra vessels. They filled the cargo holds on the extra vessels with all the essential ores the AIS needed. Along with all the other ships, the AIS took delivery of ten _Danube_ class scout ships, all equipped with what resembled a roll bar, but was really a torpedo launcher for the micro-photon torpedoes that the Federation used on their fighters.

Two marriages had taken place. The Klingon ceremony vastly different from the traditional Betazedian one. Both brides had opted to join the _Halsey_ on her voyage home. In the case of Morga daughter of Torla, her family, what little was left of it anyway, had decided to join her on this vessel. So where Marius had expected just one Klingon, there were now thirty-one of them aboard.

Triessa's family had also wanted to join her on this voyage, but they were too numerous and doing so would have deprived Betazed of one of their ruling families. So as a compromise, an equal number of Betazedians as Klingons were chosen to join the _Halsey_ crew.

The refit of the _Halsey_ had been accomplished in less than a month. For a few days, it seemed as though there were more Federation engineering teams aboard the _Halsey_ than there were of her own crew. They crawled through every nook and cranny, through every engineering access tunnel aboard the ship, until it seemed as though all of the old cables were laid out on the decks, strewn about like a cat might do to a ball of yarn.

But at last it was complete, and the changes to the onboard computing power were immediately noticeable. The science staffs aboard the ship were immensely grateful for the additional computing power that they could now access for carrying out various projects. But the other changes were not so readily apparent. Sensors had been improved by an order of magnitude, now that they could process the returning beams as fast as they received them. Many of the daily ship duties that her crew had once had to perform, could now be majorly automated, saving the crew for more pressing duties.

Grand Nagus Rom had thrown in a few freebies, which might have unusual for the Ferengi in general, had not the order been so big, and the payment so grand. Added to the order were complete files of the complete design specifications for all Ferengi vessels currently in service, including the information on the technologies that led to their designs. The final item that the Nagus had ordered transferred was a complete holodeck imaging system along with the plans and specifications for making more of them.

While the Starfleet engineers had been busily retrofitting the computing technology aboard the _Halsey_, a smaller team had been outfitting the infirmary and the smaller aid stations with stationary holographic emitters, so that the EMH program could be uploaded and run whenever necessary. The emitters were currently Federation technology, and as such had been rigged with traps such that anyone examining them would cause the microscopic emitters to short themselves out. Major Carter spent some time tweaking the EMH program and uploading minor changes to its database to encompass Goa'uld and Asgard healing techniques. She gave each one a name, so that they could refer to one another if necessary. The only odd thing was their predilection for certain hobbies. One of them liked taking pictures all the time. The other professed to a love of opera and could quite often be heard singing beautiful arias. Yet another claimed to be a writer of holonovels.

The one truly strange thing to happen before they left this universe was a call from the Borg Triumvirate to Admiral Marius.

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"Admiral, you have an incoming message from the Borg."

"Oh? Route it through to my office."

"Aye sir."

"Marius of the Tau'ri. We bid you greetings. We trust that all is well?"

"Quite well. We have nearly completed our tasks and are preparing to depart. Is there something I might be of assistance with?"

"We have had a request from a number of former Drones. They are the last remaining members of Species 58, 149, 218, 312, 343, 927, 3259, 4228, 6339, and 6961. They have served the Collective well for countless centuries. Now that they have regained their individuality, they had requested to join your vessel on its voyage."

"You understand, your Highnesses, that if they do join us, they can never return here?"

"They understand this. Species 927 has been responsible for many of the cybernetic enhancements made to the Borg Collective over the centuries. They were once a gifted race, dedicated to the pursuit of medical advancement through artificial means. Perhaps you will have use for them in the coming voyage?"

"That is an unknown factor, your Highnesses. Just how many former Drones are we talking about here?"

"One hundred and eighty-six of 58, two hundred and fifteen of 149, forty-three of 218, one hundred and forty-nine of 312, three hundred and sixty-seven of 343, ninety-one of 927, four hundred and thirty-seven of 3259, sixty-eight of 4228, two hundred and thirty-nine of species 5174, seven hundred and fifty-three of 6339, and nine hundred and thirty-one of species 6961."

"Very well. When can they be ready for transfer?"

"They are ready now."

And so, three thousand, four hundred and seventy-nine former Borg Drones joined the _Halsey_ and her crew on the next part of their journey. Those Species' members had most of their implants removed prior to the transfer, retaining only the implants that would serve them the most in their new roles, such as sensor implants.

"Comms, open a channel, all frequencies."

"Ready sir."

"Friends. The time has come for us to depart this place. We sincerely hope that you continue to work on your differences. Divided as you once were, you were individually weak. United as you now are, you are a summation greater than your individual parts. This is something I have been given to understand that you will need in the years to come. I am transmitting some files now. As soon as your ships acknowledge receipt, we will be on our way. _Halsey_ out."

"Comms officer, transmit files."

The files being transmitted to the Federation, to the Klingons, Romulans, Cardassians, and to the Borg and the Ferengi, were the complete set of data necessary to construct a Stargate network for planetary travel, the complete plans for the construction of jump gates, but not jump engines, and the codes needed to access the Stargate ship-sized gates. With transmission acknowledged by all parties, the _Halsey_ turned away from the assembled fleet.

The ship moved away from the fleet. All of her escort vessels were safely docked and secured for the dimensional jump. Her fighter squadrons had been recalled and the gun platforms safely tucked away in her hangar bays.

"Admiral, we are reading a huge increase in neutrino and chronometric radiation."

"Record everything. Perhaps we can one day go to their universe. I think it would be a grand day."

"Recording everything."

The _Halsey_ was picking up speed now, though nowhere close to the warp threshold. From the front of the vessel, four projectors came to life, seeding space with the energies needed to breach the barriers between dimensions. A moment later, the breach opened, and the _Halsey_ vanished from sight.

Lieutenant Commander Annika Hansen returned to her quarters after her shift had ended on the bridge. As a former Drone, the idea of perfection had long ago left her. Yet she had seen the Borg ideal of perfection! And it had left her wanting. She saw the screen on her desk flash its notification that a message had been delivered.

"Commander Hansen. I had not the time during my stay there to meet with you personally, though I feel you are the best 'bet', as it were for this next mission. A mission, I daresay, that no one in your home universe can ever know about. You have lived for several years without the Collective. You have persevered, adapted, and overcome many obstacles in your path towards individualism. There are many former Drones that will look to you as an example for their path towards regaining their individuality. The obstacles I see in their path are the Federation and her neighbors, and the Collective. They will attempt to use the former Drones to their advantage. If these former Drones wish to live in a place where their true value and worth will be of use, not abused, then you have but to use the gift I am leaving for you."

Behind her there was a flash of intense light and when she turned around there was a device sitting on her chair. It had a reflective surface surrounded by what appeared to be carved stone and what resembled a control interface next to it.

"The device you are now looking at is what we call a dimensional mirror. It was created by the Ancients for individual travel between the dimensions. The device is preset for my home universe. All that you need do is activate the device with the control interface I have given you, and then touch the mirrored surface. The process is completely painless, and after the touch, you will find yourself in an office on Immortal Luna. It can be used by yourself, or by any one you believe to be at risk from the Federation, her neighbors, or the Collective, or any new empires you encounter. Please be advised, however, that anyone you send will not have a way back to your universe. You, however, are free to visit and return as you may so desire.

"The Ancients were a very powerful and very wise race, but they were not without their faults. I'm sure that when the _Halsey_ left, every sensor on every ship was trained in our direction. The phenomena that you and others witnessed was not due to some new as yet undiscovered form of science. Within every Immortal is, for lack of a better word, an energy field. It is this field that allows us to detect others of our kind and to interact with nature and the universe itself. Only when an Immortal is very old, will the ability to breach the dimensions become available. None of us are able to do that except for Tok'Ra, our Father and Creator. Any attempts to discern the secrets of the mirror will render it inert. I trust you will use this device wisely and for the purposes of good. Good day Commander."

Seven of Nine, former tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, looked at the mirror in contemplation of life and perfection. Herself and others of her kind, the Borg, would never know perfection, but here was a way to study it and to learn from it. Seven resolved to go down with the next away mission at the next former Borg world they stopped at, to offer the other former Drones a new choice.

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	7. Persistence, Pt 3

Persistence 

_Part 3 of the Potentials Series_

_Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible._

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_**Part 3**_

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Two weeks spent in a pocket dimension with nothing to look at but the absolute absence of color of any type. No forms of any kind of energy existed within this pocket dimension. It was proving to be just as unspectacular as the last time they had been in here. But unlike the last time, the engineering team was filled with more exploratory work than ever. The capture of several hundred Borg data storage units had revealed a treasure trove of weapons technologies, which were being fitted into the anti-fighter turrets, and onto the fighters of the fleet. The design specs for photon torpedoes proved easy enough to duplicate, even without anti-matter for the warheads. The use of naquadah-enhanced fusion warheads would prove to have almost as much punch as the photon ones did. And they still pulsated red as they shot through space, leaving a visible trace to follow to the target.

Marius had been surprised to find some parting gifts in his quarters from the various governments of the last universe. A pair of matching daggers and an excruciatingly sharp bat'leth from Chancellor Martok, along with the collected works of William Shakespeare in what the note said was the 'original Klingon'. From Admiral Sela, he had received what looked like an exquisite copy of their Praetor's scepter, and an invitation, should he ever return, to visit Romulus with the honorary rank of Pro Consul.

The Cardassians had been ever so grateful for the wormhole technologies that they had left in his office, the complete designs for the _Keldon_ and _Galor_-class heavy cruisers. The Grand Nagus had left, in addition to everything he'd already received, a lifetime supply of something they called Beetle snuff. Marius considered himself adventurous, but the idea of snorting crushed beetles did not appeal to him in the slightest. The Dominion had left something unexpected as well. They had, it seemed, been reading up on the history of the Alliance and some of its member worlds, particularly the Asgard. Their methods of cloning were vastly different than those of the Asgard. It seems they had defeated the problem the Asgard were having and so they had passed along their complete history of the science of cloning. Perhaps somewhere in there was the answer the Asgard sought. As an aside, they gave to the Asgard, the Breen energy dissipation weapon. Though there were no Asgard representatives on board the _Halsey_, Marius deduced that they had spent some time conversing with O'Neill, perhaps, or with Major Carter. Either way, it was dammed generous of them.

The Borg gave the _Halsey_ two things. The first gift had been before they left, when the Borg had turned the First World into a newly born sun. Hopefully, the remaining technological wonders of the Ancients were forever gone. The second and last gift, had been a complete database of the Borg, encased in six Interceptor class ships, which would lend their formidable computing powers to the engineering and science departments of the _Halsey_.

The next few weeks in the pocket dimension were spent retrofitting the fighters with phase cannons, with producing photon torpedoes in sufficient quantity to replace all of the now severely depleted stocks of Shipwreck and Harpoon missiles, and with the creation of miniaturized photon torpedoes that could be mounted on the missile rails of the various fighters. The ground equipment was also modified to use both standard projectiles, and energy based explosive rounds.

"Tok'Ra, we are ready to depart this space for the next part of our journey. Any hints as to what we are to do?"

"I was contacted by the Ancient we left in this place. He has kept a firm hand in the outcome of the human race native to this next dimension. You may liken him to the Fates of mythology that wove a tapestry with each strand representing a human being. He has told me that he has had to use one of our technologies to prevent a great tragedy. The unexpected side effect is that that universe is now locked into a temporal loop of approximately five years. He has identified five people whom he believes to be critical to the desired outcome. He has tried countless permutations of events, only to have at least one, and in some cases all, die at different times, with each death leading to a different outcome for that universe. Only one must survive for all the rest to live through their ordeal and for the loop to be broken. You must modify your shields to project a bubble of temporal particles. This will insulate you from the temporal loop and allow you to observe the events as they occur. The other Ancient, he uses the name Michael, or at least that is an approximate translation, fears that if the loop goes on for too many more incarnations, the damage to this universe will be impossible to correct."

"I see. Very well. Major Carter, can you make the necessary adjustments to our shield projectors?"

"I can sir. The Borg database has all the necessary information for that modification."

"Then get to it. Alright people, once more into the breach. We jump in as soon as Major Carter is done fiddling with the shields."

"Done sir. It was a minor change."

"Very well. All ships. Prepare for return to normal space. Jump now!"

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The transition from the pocket dimension with absolute nothingness to normal space never ceased to amaze him. The sheer multitude of colors present in the dimensional tear seemed almost kaleidoscopic in nature. The scanners always managed to capture intriguing images at their point of departure. The images, he knew, would play for days on various screensavers around the ship. As soon as they were back in normal space, two squadrons were launched as scouts for the _Halsey_, extending the range of her sensors by at least a million miles in all directions. It wasn't long before they heard the message. The message they were waiting for.

"Sir, we're picking up a distress signal on all subspace frequencies."

"On screen."

"It's audio only sir."

"Very well then. Main speakers, Mr. Jameson."

"_Mayday. Mayday. This is Whiskey outpost to battle fleet! We are under heavy attack. Mayday. Mayday. Can anyone hear me?"_

"Can you raise them?"

"Attempting to do so, sir. No response to any of our hails."

"Keep trying. Flight deck, make ready a _Bulldog_ for immediate launch. Alex, get your team ready for deployment, on the double. Possible First Contact as well. Better take Major Mulder with you. He has command of the diplomatic mission, but you will be the overall ground commander."

"Sir, signal is emanating from the fourth planet in this system. It's a desert like world with many canyons. Evidence of an extremely intricate subterranean tunnel network extending for thousands of miles. The planet is covered with these underground tunnels."

"Noted. Launch SAR mission with escort. Fighters are to remain in space pending notification from the ground commander. Launch a pair of _Danube_'s for possible ground support."

The _Halsey_ had unknowingly set into action a series of events that would culminate in a First Contact. Elsewhere in the system, the Mayday broadcast had been received by its intended recipient. A team was launched from one of the vessels in the fleet, the _Rodger Young_. But they didn't land at the outpost. Instead they approached from a few miles distant.

The SAR team, led by Lieutenant Alexander Phillipson, used the ring transporters to enter the outpost directly. What they found, however, made even Alexander loose his lunch.

"SAR team to _Halsey_. How copy?"

"We read you five by five, Alex. What do you got?"

"A lot of dead bodies. Whatever happened here was not even remotely a good thing. Most of the bodies have been torn apart brutally. Many are not recognizable as human any more."

"Any live ones?"

"Not yet sir. I'm gonna have my people police up these bodies. Keep the squadrons on alert. I don't like this at all."

"Roger that. Do you need backup?"

"I could stand the help of another team or two."

"Affirmative. Sending additional support teams now. _Halsey_ out."

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"Adam? What do you think?"

"I think that Alex is due for another promotion. He's done quite well since joining the SGC. Alex is an excellent strategist, and Mulder is becoming quite good at First Contact, but I think we should leave Alex in charge of this mission. Something about this place is making all the hairs on the back of my neck rise up."

"Alright Adam, I have the bridge."

"Better you than me, Marius."

"Smart ass."

"I invented that you know. The art of the smart ass. Should have patented it when I had the chance."

Marius never knew when to believe Adam and when not to. Ten minutes later, the two additional support teams were on the surface. Alex had placed men into the towers overlooking the compound where heavy weapons had been placed by the previous inhabitants. Oddly enough, they too were projectile based weapons. One of the support teams had brought along some heavier fire power than what the standard trooper was carrying in the form of LAWS rockets and fifty caliber machine guns. The rockets were distributed to the fire teams along the walls with the .50's spaced out as evenly as possible to provide overlapping fields of fire. Just then, one of the airborne scouts, still in space, reported movement on the ground near their position. Alex ordered his troopers to cover, out of sight of the approaching group of humans.

"Damn bugs sure did a number on this place."

"Rico, get me comms. Let's police up these bodies. Get me two men in the towers now!"

"Yes sir!"

The two troopers started their climbs up the towers at the same time. Both reached the top at the same time as well and then both put their hands up. One of them shouted a warning to those below. The result was an instantaneous raising of weapons that were being trained all around the compound.

"Hold fire!"

"Who the hell are you!"

"Name's Alex Phillipson. Lieutenant. AIS _Halsey_. We intercepted a Mayday and we came down to investigate."

"Never heard of you or your ship. Show yourself, now!"

Alex stepped out from behind the cover he had taken, weapon in his hands, but held low. He motioned for his troopers to step out as well.

"Well, you look human enough. What outfit you with?"

"I'm the strike team leader from the AIS _Halsey_. Like I said, we heard a distress call and came down to investigate. But all we found were torn up bodies. No live ones yet. We mean you no harm. We came to help, but if you don't want the help, we can always leave."

"You have a rescue boat nearby?"

"Yep. In orbit."

"Rico, get me those comms. I've got a bad feeling about this."

Neither team really trusted the other for the moment, but both sides were agreeable to an uneasy truce at best. The troopers under Lt. Rasczak went about their gruesome task of collecting the bodies for retrieval at some point. One of the troopers, a female one, went in to the communications shack to try and raise their fleet to apprise them of the situation. Others followed the Lieutenant into one of the buildings. The floor was pockmarked with holes, as if something had punched through the floor from below. They discovered more bodies inside, and miracle of miracles, a live one!

"Thank God for the Mobile Infantry! You all will get medals for this. I'll make sure of it. I had to hide you see. They gave up their lives for me. I have strategic data on our plans for this system. I had no choice. I had to hide."

From one of the towers came the shout that none of the MI wanted to hear, and one that none of the _Halsey_'s strike team understood.

"Bugs! Bugs!"

"Rico! I need that transmitter! Warm it up! Give 'em everything you've got! Come on you apes, you wanna live forever?"

The strike teams from the _Halsey_ ran up to the upper platforms to see just what had excited these infantry types so much. What they saw was something out of a nightmare. Thousands upon thousands of insect-like creatures, all headed their way. Above their heads, the gunners in the towers opened up on the incoming hostiles. There were two distinct barks of weapons fire; one from the tower mounted heavy machine guns, the other from the improvised mounts of the fifty caliber guns.

Though the weapons of these infantrymen and women looked advanced, many of the troopers from the _Halsey_ were surprised to hear the all too common report of seven-point-six-two millimeter fired on automatic. It was a very unique sound.

"Lieutenant. How soon can your rescue boat get down here and do you have room enough for all of us?"

"In a few minutes, and I'm not sure. In that order."

"Well then, pour everything you have at them. They are what happened to the people in this outpost!"

"You heard the man! Open fire!"

Alex was standing beside Rasczak, firing at the enemy in short controlled bursts. The bad thing about the OICW was that it had such a small magazine, due in part to the two types of ammunition that it used, and in a larger part to the US military's desire for a smaller, more compact weapon. But nonetheless, he was firing at the incoming enemy. He hadn't brought that many clips with him, and with the high rate of fire, he burned through them quickly, then let the rifle drop in favor of the phaser rifle he had slung across his back. He set it to kill mode, in as wide a dispersal beam as effectively possible. The effect was devastating to the enemy, but it seemed to have little effect, as more of the enemy would appear in the place of their recently vaporized brethren. Alex grabbed his radio all the while still firing.

"_Halsey_! We need immediate retrieval! Tell the docs to stand by to receive wounded!"

"What's going on, Alex?"

"Whatever attacked this outpost is back in force! Oh shit! Broken Arrow! I say again, Broken Arrow!"

"Roger that! Support on the way!"

The effect of the 'Broken Arrow' radio call was immediate. The two squadrons flying loose circles around the three _Bulldog_ transports immediately broke formation and entered the atmosphere at a high rate of speed. The two _Danube_-class scout ships, the _Rio_ _Bravo_ and the _Nueces_, departed holding orbit to support the troops on the ground. Their pulsed phaser cannons and their micro-photon torpedoes would prove a Godsend to the troopers on the ground. The effect on the deck crews on the _Halsey_ was to spur them into urgent action. Flights of attack fighters began launching at quick intervals to assist the troops on the ground.

Lieutenant Rasczak looked up to the sky as he heard an approaching whine coming from his left. Strange looking planes were coming in fast and flying parallel to the outpost. Some sort of energy balls were falling on the bugs, incinerating large groups of them, but having little overall effect on the sheer numbers of the enemy present. He looked for an instant at this youngish looking short blond haired man, and the man in question only grinned and kept on firing at the enemy. Rasczak thought this man seemed to enjoy the fight going on all around him. He had this nagging feeling that he'd seen the young man somewhere before, but he could quite place his finger on it. Oh well, it would come to him eventually.

Above him, more fighters, and now some flattened pyramid ships were coming in hot and fast, raining down energy bombs on the bugs. Behind him, he heard the short, sharp bark of a rescue boat firing its retro rockets.

"Fall back into the compound! Hold there and fall back into the boat!"

Alex turned to look at their rescue boat and saw just how small it was. There was no way all of them could fit in there. Alex looked at his people for a brief second and he made the call.

"_Cydonia_! We need immediate large scale pick-up!"

"Beginning atmospheric insertion now!"

The troopers of the MI looked up and saw a very big ship headed their way. That such a large vessel could come in so fast and so controlled amazed them all. When it opened up with laser beams and heavy rockets, the troopers stopped firing, but only for a second or two. It was long enough for the enemy to tunnel in from under them. Rasczak disappeared as the ground opened up beneath him. He yelled. He screamed. It was a blood curdling scream that made every Immortal on the strike team turn his way. Alex rushed to help and got there as three other MI troopers pulled him from the hole. His legs were gone, cut off at mid-thigh. Alex keyed his throat mike.

"_Cydonia_! Emergency beam up! Directly to sick bay! He needs to get into a stasis pod immediately! Lock in on this signal!"

Alex unclipped his radio and attached it to the lieutenant and a second or two later, the screaming lieutenant vanished as an Asgard transporter beam took hold of him and whisked him away, to the stunned looks of the three MI troopers.

"What did you do to the Lieutenant? Where did he go?"

"He's safe. Worry about him later. Worry about us right now."

The troopers were falling back towards their rescue boat when a very big bug broke through the outer wall. A female trooper rushed up to it with a grenade in her hand. She tossed that perfect toss and it caught it square in its mouth. It was the type of toss every quarterback dreams of throwing. A second or two later, the upper half of the bug exploded, spraying most of the troopers in the compound with reddish-orange goo. The MI troopers cheered and then they turned to run to their boat. But at that very instant, the female trooper turned around, away from the enemy, and found herself on the receiving end of razor sharp feet. The insect looking creature pierced her body repeatedly and was hit by gun fire several times before releasing the trooper, with one of its claws still embedded in her chest. Two of her fellow MI troopers rushed to her aid, one of them pulling the insect claw from her body while the other one supported her body.

All the while, the MI troopers were pulling back to their rescue boat, and _Halsey_ strike team members were being beamed up around them. The _Cydonia_ was laying on thick covering fire, vaporizing whole groups of attacking insects only to have more fill in the gaps. The _Ryan_ and the _Prometheus_ had joined their sister ship over the outpost and were adding their own firepower to the fight. Strike aircraft were making pass after pass on the mass of creatures attacking the outpost, covering the withdrawal of troops from the compound. Even in the best of light, the most honest description that could be given to the whole situation was something akin to uncontrolled chaos.

"Rescue boat, this is the _Cydonia_ _Planitia_. If you have wounded aboard, our medical bays stand ready to assist."

"Roger that! Preparing to dock with your vessel!"

Though Carmen Ibañez had never seen the likes of the vessel in front of her, the old adage about any port in a storm came to mind. She knew there were wounded troopers aboard, and the quicker they got to medical help, the more likely they would be to survive. The truth of the matter was that she was also damned curious about where this other ship had come from, and the matter in which it had evacuated its personnel from Whiskey Outpost further intrigued her. The Federation had nothing like that beam that made people disappear. They sure as hell didn't have ships like this _Cydonia_ _Planitia_ that could just as easily fly through an atmosphere as fly through space. And the support aircraft flying bombing runs against the Bugs! She had never seen their like either! She was damned curious! As she settled her craft in on the deck of this mysterious ship, she saw fighters of a strange design coming in for a landing, and her co-pilot came back up to the flight deck.

"I think you should know, you're friend Rico's back there."

"Get on the horn and...what the hell? Where are we?"

"This ship offered medical assistance for the wounded. I figured it would be better to land here than to keep on going towards the _Rodger Young_."

"I hope you made the right call."

"Lower the rear ramp."

There was already a small group of people waiting as the ramp came down. Men and women in some type of blue uniform. He guessed a few were medics from the arm patches with the red cross in the middle of the patch. But they didn't have a gurney with them, just some strange looking pod. As the MI troopers rushed out and took up formation around the rescue boat, the medics rushed in and triaged the wounded. Only one was critical enough to require the pod, and this woman went into the pod. Technically, she was already dead. The medics on the scene could find no pulse or obvious heartbeat. The pod was prepped for immediate transfer to the _Halsey_, where the sarcophagi were kept.

"Where are you going with her body!"

"Sir, we don't have the facilities to treat her wounds on this ship. The stasis pod will keep her at the point of death until we can transfer her to the infirmary on the _Halsey_."

"I'm going with her. She's my responsibility."

"Of course, sir."

"Actually, that's Sergeant. Not 'sir'."

"Of course Sergeant. Follow us please."

The _Cydonia_ took up station along side the _Halsey_ to effect the beam-over of wounded personnel rescued from the planet below. Two stasis pods came over, one with a woman at the point of death, and another with a man missing both legs below mid-thigh. The man was kept in stasis for now, but the woman was immediately transferred to a gold coffin like box. The Sergeant that had come with her was still too stunned to protest much, and after finding himself behind a restraining force field, found that it was all he could do to protest loudly.

"Bridge, sick bay. With the alert, I would've thought we'd get more wounded?"

"Negative Dr. Scully. Not much even a sarcophagus can do with a body that's been ripped to shreds."

"Ouch."

"Status of the wounded?"

"One female placed into a sarcophagus. The other wounded male has lost both legs at mid-thigh. Don't think the sarcophagus can re-grow his legs, though."

"What about prostheses?"

"I'll check the Borg database for something appropriate. Sick bay out."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. Jameson, status report?"

"All fighters are back aboard. The _Cydonia_ has one 'rescue boat' of unknown origin aboard. The wounded are in our sickbay, with Dr. Scully attending them. No damage reported."

"Very well. Keep a couple squadrons flying as CAP and the rest on Alert-Five. Scan the region for evidence of the ship or ships that could send that rescue boat."

"Already done with the scan. We are seeing a rather large grouping of ships about one light-minute out.."

"Hail them. All known radio, subspace, and tachyon frequencies. Tell them we've picked up one of their rescue boats and are treating their wounded. Otherwise, follow the standard First Contact protocols."

Sergeant John Rico was looking around this ship, or at least what he could see from the infirmary. It was a design he was unfamiliar with. He had never heard of a vessel called the _Halsey_. All Federation ships were named for famous soldiers, true, but the vast majority were named for MI type soldiers. From what he remembered from his historical studies, there was an early Earth admiral named _Halsey_, back before the formation of the Federal Council when there were still nation-states warring against one another. But that man that had been in the compound on the planet, Rico knew him from somewhere. He just couldn't place the face. But he was more concerned with Flores at the moment. He had seen her die, yet these people seemed to think they could bring her back from the dead. He was hopeful, but not outwardly so.

On the bridge of the _Halsey_, Adam had ordered the ship to head towards the large armada on their scanners. He had brought one of the pilots up to the bridge so that she could contact the fleet on using the communications suite on the bridge.

"This is pilot Ibañez calling _Rodger Young_, come in please."

"We read you pilot. Where are you?"

"You should be picking up a ship at the outer edge of your sensors. The people on this ship are human. They rescued us and the MI troopers at Whiskey Outpost. They have Lieutenant Rasczak and Corporal Flores in their medical bay, undergoing treatment. They wish to communicate with the Fleet Commander to discuss the opening of formal relations."

"Understood Pilot. We are moving to rendezvous with you."

Aboard the _Rodger Young_, the Captain asked for a visual image of the ship now entering sensor range from behind Planet P. The sensor officer reported back the initial findings only to be asked for clarification on the size. But sensor readings confirmed the size several times before he gave his report.

"Ma'am, that ship. It's about the size of six of our fleet vessels put together! Three miles long!"

"Nothing that big has ever been a part of the Federation. It's just a little smaller than Fleet Station _Ticonderoga_!"

"Yes ma'am. And they have an awful lot of other ships with them and they're headed our way."

"Alert the Fleet Commander, and get a channel to the _Buenos_ _Aires_. The Sky Marshall needs to be informed of this event!"

"Aye Captain."

----------------------------------------

Johnny Rico was staring at the strange gold coffin they'd place Diz into. He'd never seen anything like it. Then again, aside from the few Bug infested planets he'd been to, he'd never been off Earth. The odd thing was that it bore an odd resemblance to something he'd seen in a historical vid once, about the Pyramids in Egypt. Or at least the funny looking symbols on the coffin looked like that. It made him wonder just where these people were from. He had been staring so long that he failed to notice the coffin begin to open.

The upper portion opened like a pair of wings, pivoting on a central point. The inside glowed a brilliant white. He heard a sharp intake of breath, like someone who had been holding their breath suddenly remembering to breathe again. Then the person sat up, and medics rushed to their side and assisted them in stepping out of the coffin. When they drew away, Johnny was amazed to see Diz standing there, alive and intact. Other than the puncture marks on her uniform, there was no evidence that she had been wounded in combat.

"Diz! You're alive!"

"Johnny! Oh Johnny! I thought I was dead. I remember the rescue boat. I thought I was going to die! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Actually Miss, you did die. Your body was placed in the sarcophagus and it restored you to full health. But it takes a toll on the body. You'll need to rest for a few hours, and take in some food to rebuild your strength."

"Who are you?"

"Major Dana Scully, Chief Medical Officer of the AIS _Halsey_."

"AIS _Halsey_? I've never heard of your ship. Johnny? What's going on?"

"Major Scully. I want to speak to someone in charge. I want to speak to someone in charge, now!"

"That would be me, I believe."

"Admiral's on deck!"

"As you were. You wished to speak with someone in charge young man. Go ahead and speak."

"Who are you?"

"I am Admiral Marco Ramos and you are aboard the strike carrier AIS _Halsey_. And you are?"

"Sergeant John Rico, 6th Mobile Infantry Division."

"Hmm, I see. I would guess then that you are in no position of authority to affirm or deny treatment for the officer in the stasis pod?"

"What sort of treatment?"

"Dr. Scully?"

"Admiral. The man in question has lost both legs, rather brutally, at mid-thigh. The sarcophagus, while advanced, can not reform bone and muscle tissue. Dr. Four of Ten has informed me that they can graft a pair of cybernetic legs to his body. And they can replace the rather primitive arm he already possesses."

"Very well. Ask Four of Ten to make his preparations. I will see about getting permission for the surgery. Sergeant Rico, if you'll follow me please, we'll head up to the bridge and see about talking with your ship and your people."

"Sir, if I may ask?"

"Ask away, Rico."

"What is the AIS?"

"AIS stands for Alliance of Independent Systems, which is presently headquartered on Luna. The Alliance is made up of several hundred member worlds, and spans thousands of light years."

"Wow."

"Admiral's on the bridge!"

"As you were. Report, XO."

"We've established audio contact with a ship in the armada on sensors. A Captain Deladier. All fighters have been recovered. Two squadrons currently on CAP with the rest of the fighters currently being equipped for close air support roles. No damage to any decks, and no casualties reported from Alex. All ship board systems nominal."

"Very well. Estimates of the armada's capabilities?"

"They look heavy on troop transports. Pilot Carmen Ibañez reports that the majority of their fleet are such. She also identified one vessel as the _Buenos_ _Aires_, though the type of vessel she was unwilling to give details on."

"Launch two more squadrons for CAP duty. Deploy all platforms and order the _Danube_ scouts to assist the corvettes and fighter squadrons with covering fire. I've a feeling that appearing weak before these people will be a bad thing."

"Admiral. Incoming signal from the _Rodger Young_."

"On screen."

"Aye sir."

"Commander Pierson? Is your Admiral available yet?"

"He's right here. Allow me to present Admiral Marco Ramos. Admiral, this lovely woman is Captain Deladier."

"Greetings Captain. We have some of your personnel aboard undergoing treatment. One in particular has lost both legs. As soon as he's conscious, we'll be asking him about his treatment. The remaining survivors have all been treated and released."

"I thank you for their medical treatment. If you would allow one of my boats to dock with your ship, we can take them off your hands."

"Not necessary. We have loaded them aboard one of our own troop transports, along with your rescue boat, and are preparing to go over to your ship."

"I see. Very well then. I will see you on the hangar deck."

"Yes."

"Channel closed sir."

"Very good. Adam, get Alex and his team ready for escort duty."

"Is that wise, Marius?"

"Probably not. Get O'Neill up here. I'll leave him in charge. If things go south, he's to do whatever is necessary to get us off that ship and barring that, he's to get this crew home."

"As you say, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------

It was a _Bulldog_ class troop transport that they were using for this excursion. In its cargo hold was the rescue boat from the _Rodger Young_. The personnel from the _Halsey_ that were aboard were all Immortals. All dressed in Jaffa-style combat armor with Zat guns tucked into wrist pockets and holding Staff weapons in their hands. They looked formidable and that was exactly what Marius wanted.

The _Bulldog_ approached the _Rodger Young_ and entered her hangar bay. Before setting down on the deck, the transport moved to one side and beamed the rescue boat down, then moved back to the left and set down on its landing gear. The side hatches opened and one column of troopers emerged from each side, followed by Marius and Mulder. The clanking of metal boots on a metal deck echoed throughout the hangar deck.

Captain Deladier had never seen the likes of this troop transport. It floated gracefully, without the need for rockets of any kind. The deck officer guiding the transport was surprised when it moved over to one side. She was even more surprised when a white light flashed in front of her and a standard issue rescue boat appeared in their midst."They sure know how to make an entrance, don't they Colonel Jenkins?"

"I'd say so. The matter transportation technology alone is something the Terran Federation has been researching for decades. Not to mention the anti-grav engines that ship obviously has."

"Let's go greet out guests, shall we?"

"Welcome to the _Rodger Young_. I'm sorry, but you can not bring your weapons aboard my ship."

"Of course. Our staffs are purely ceremonial. May we keep these?"

"Yes. But no other weapons."

"Right. Sergeant, take up the Zats if you please. Lock them down aboard the _Bulldog_. And bring out our guests."

"Aye sir!"

"These are the personnel we rescued from the planet. Returned to you safe and unharmed. The one still aboard the _Halsey_ is due to get replacement limbs in a few hours. As soon as he's ambulatory, he will be returned to you."

"Replacement limbs?"

"Our cybernetic technology is quite advanced. His new legs will give him new mobility his old legs couldn't. We will also replace his artificial arm to give him more options."

"Well. Thank you for that. Now if you'll follow me, we'll move to a more suitable environment for a meeting."

"Of course. After you Captain."

Without anyone noticing, or so he thought, Colonel Jenkins had slipped away to a communications console.

"General. They appear quite advanced technologically, but a bit too trusting for my taste. Their armor is something else. It looks remarkably like chain mail, of all things. It should be relatively easy to hold them hostage and obtain what we need from their ship. With their Admiral aboard, their vessel should be quite willing to negotiate for his safe return."

"I agree, Jenkins. Put it in motion. The Sky Marshall will be aboard shortly."

"Sir!"

Marius and the others followed Captain Deladier into a large room. It looked well appointed for meetings. It also looked well appointed for an ambush. Alex nodded to his 2IC, who passed along covert hand signals to the rest of his team. They moved in slowly to protect their President.

"That will be quite far enough, Ramos."

As Deladier spoke, armed MI troopers moved in to surround the _Halsey_ party. The reaction from the seemingly soft personnel surrounding the Admiral was swift. Helmets closed and staves came down into ready positions and the ends of each staff opened up. MI trooper weapons came to bear on the men and women surrounding the Admiral and the men and women surrounding the Admiral began training their weapons on the MI troopers. Under normal circumstances, it might have been a one sided stand-off in favor of the Mobile Infantry. But these weren't normal circumstances.

"Showing your hospitality, eh Captain?"

"You are weak. We are strong. We will take what we need from your ship and you can do nothing to stop us."

"Ya know, you could also just ask us for whatever it is you want. But here we are, at an impasse. If my people fire at yours, they'll die. If your people fire at us, we won't. We will become our own second and third wave of reinforcements. And we will get off this ship and then you will be faced with the might of the AIS _Halsey_ and her fleet. That will also be a rather one-sided battle I'm afraid. You see, we scanned your ships as soon as we spotted them on sensors. You have no shield technology. We do. Who do you think will win in that kind of battle?"

Deladier stood quietly for a moment, pondering her next move when Colonel Carl Jenkins walked up to her side. He was concentrating hard, looking directly at Marius, trying to read his thoughts, but all he could see was an impenetrable wall of light surrounding the man. He moved to a new mental target and found the same. All of the men in this strange chain mail armor had impenetrable walls of light surrounding their minds. He moved mentally again to the Admiral, and this time saw an opening in the wall. He looked in and what he saw confirmed his first impression. The image could only be of this man's home world. Men standing in what looked like a stadium, and fighting one another with short swords while thousands cheered on.

Marius could feel the brush of another mind. He projected an image from his past that would throw off the person doing the probing.

"If you're quite through looking through my mind, perhaps we can continue this little stand off of ours."

"Primitives. There is no way you could have sensed what I was doing!"

"Let me guess, two men facing off one another with short swords in front of a large crowd?"

"How?"

"I gave you that image, Colonel Jenkins. It is what I wanted you to see. You believe us primitive by your standards. But while you were looking in my mind, I was examining yours. You are engaged in a war against an insectoid species. There are many millions more of them than there are of you. Your Earth has but three colony worlds, all in your home system, and several outposts scattered over a few hundred light years. Our Alliance is spread across many thousands of light years in this galaxy and in the Triangulum galaxy. You call us primitives, but we are far in advance of you. Our ships can traverse thousands of light years in minutes. Even our fighters can travel faster than light. The same shields that exist on our ships exist at the personal level as well. So, yes, you can fire on us, but your projectiles will bounce off our shields. On the other hand, the plasma weapons embedded in our staves will launch packets of plasma that will burn through your flesh as easily as a white hot knife cuts through butter."

"This from a man wearing chain mail? You call yourselves advanced, but you are even more primitive than we are!"

"Look, we responded to a distress signal in good faith. Your crews are unharmed. Their wounds have been treated. One was even brought back from the dead. Yet you treat us like something less than human. You hold us hostage because you want our technology. Now if you want to discuss an exchange of technology then we are open to such discussions. If, however, all you want is to take our technology, then you will have made an enemy worse than the ones you fight now. For whereas they can only launch asteroids to bombard a single city on your home world, only one ship of our fleet would be necessary to bombard your primitive world back to the stone age!"

"Our fleet surrounds yours. If one of your ships attempts to escape, you will be killed and your ships taken by force."

Aboard the _Halsey_, Jack O'Neill was listening to every word being said on the _Rodger Young_. He knew his people were in some trouble, but he also knew that these others couldn't harm the Admiral's party. But with the other fleet surrounding them and looking like they wanted to party, O'Neill felt he should oblige them some.

"Flight deck, prep all fighters for ship to ship warfare. Launch all fighters then bring in the CAP squadrons and get them turned as quick as you can."

"Flight deck copies all."

"Weps, bring all guns to bear on that big honking ship out there, the one we've tagged as their flagship. Load plasma and photon torpedoes in all tubes."

"Aye sir!"

"So, Colonel, Captain. While you hold me here, my ship is preparing to blow your Flagship, the _Buenos_ _Aires_, out of known space."

"Sensor officer, lock all targeting beams on that big ship!"

"Colonel Jenkins! We're getting targeting sweeps on the _Buenos_ _Aires_! Hundreds of targeting beams are locked on!"

"So what will it be? Release us, and we'll go on about out business here. Keep us here, and risk an all out war. And we both know who'll win. Eventually, the winners of a war between your forces and ours, will be the enemies you fight. So you have a choice to make, but choose wisely."

"Let them go."

"Sky Marshal Meru?"

"Let them go. Our war is with the Bugs, not with other humans. We are here to defend Earth and our way of life against a species that wants to eradicate us. Must we do their job for them, Colonel Jenkins?"

"But ma'am, they have so many technologies that we could use to win this war sooner and save so many of our kind! They are not us, and it is our duty as members of the Terran Federation to do everything in our power to insure that the Human species is the dominant one in this galaxy!"

"Not to be an old record here folks, but ya know, you could always ask us for these technologies?"

"And you would give these freely?"

"No. But we are open to trade. So, shall we sit down to peaceful negotiations?"

"I think that is in our best interest at this time."

"Very well, Marshall Meru. In three days time, you and I will meet on the planet below us. My forces and your forces will provide security for this meeting. Is this agreeable to you?"

"It is."

"Then we shall take our leave."

Marius turned around and walked out of the ward room, surrounded, led, and followed by Alex's strike team. They walked right back to the hangar deck, onto the _Bulldog_, and left the _Rodger Young_. Once back in space, the _Bulldog_ was surrounded by an escort of fighters and led back to the _Halsey_.

----------------------------------------

_**Three days later**_

_**Medical Bay**_

After a series of operations performed by a team of former Borg, the Terran Federation Lieutenant Rasczak was being let out from intensive care. He had a new arm, two new legs, and a targeting scanner in a removable headband. The Borg had given his new prostheses several options that would benefit a soldier. The arm had a built-in viewing screen that was tied into sensors on his legs, located near where a human knee would be. The sensors gave a wide variety of information, but Rasczak would find the most use from the radar screen to determine the approach path of incoming enemies.

Where the hand would normally be, the Borg had put in place a fully articulated artificial hand, covered by an artificial skin. With the hydraulic actuators in place of muscle and bone, the fingers could grasp something as delicate as a flower, or crush a chunk of granite. He could still use a standard projectile weapon, but the Borg took a page from the Federation weapons database and included a pulse phase pistol with twin barrels that would fire wherever he pointed his wrist.

His legs were structural tritanium. He could run at fifty miles per hour for days at a time, because of the cybernetic systems in his legs. They'd had to replace a number of bones in his lower body with tritanium because the new legs and his old body were quite incompatible. But the end result was a stronger overall body. But the question that remained, was whether the Lieutenant would like his upgrades or not.

"Well, lieutenant. Feeling better?"

"Much. Thank you sir."

"No need to call me sir, lieutenant. I'm not in your chain of command. Your Corporal Flores sent a distress signal, and a rescue boat from the _Rodger Young_ responded, but our vessel was closer for the wounded. We brought you here. Corporal Flores was gravely wounded and she actually died enroute to the medical bay. We were able to bring her back. You on the other hand, had lost both of your legs. We've given you replacements and as long as we were at it, we replaced the primitive unit you had for an arm. Shall I tell you what we've given you?"

"Yes, please."

"Well first off, your new arm and your new legs are made of an alloy of trinium and titanium. It is the strongest material known to our science. The internal workings are covered by a synthetic skin that will allow you to feel heat, cold, water, and fire. Your arm has a digital display unit that will receive telemetry from a set of sensors mounted alongside both of your knees. Radar, sonar, ground penetrating radar, electromagnetic scans. In place of the primitive fingers you had before, you now have fully articulated and hydraulically actuated fingers. The pressure is adjustable based on what your brain dictates, from the gentle grasp needed to pick a flower, to the crushing power needed to kill your enemies. All of these upgrades can be used by themselves, or you can route the feeds to this headband, which has a drop down targeting scanner for one eye, and a laser targeting beam along side it. In addition to the display panel on the inside of your arm, there is a twin pulse phaser gun mounted above your wrist. Just point and shoot, but drop your hand out of the way or you'll vaporize it."

"Sounds like good advice. Admiral, mind if I ask you a question?"

"Please. Feel free to speak your mind."

"That young lieutenant of yours that helped us out on P. I have this feeling I've seen him before. Perhaps he just has one of those faces that remind one of someone, but I have this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I know him from somewhere."

"P?"

"The planet you rescued us from. It's designated Planet P."

"I guess your government ran out of names, eh? But as to Lieutenant Phillipson, before I answer your question, I have one of my own, and a bit of an explanation. But I must ask that you at the very least try to keep this explanation to yourself. Can you do that?"

"I can certainly try. Please proceed Admiral."

"You come from Earth. It's a pleasant place, much nicer than some other planets in the universe, yes? Well, the thing is, we also come from Earth. Actually, the vast majority of the crew aboard the _Halsey_ and her escort vessels are from Earth. I presently make my home on Luna, and there are members of my crew, like Colonel Starbuck, that make their home on Mars. But we also have crew members from Minbar and Narn, along with Quo'nos, and Betazed among others. But my Earth and your Earth are two different planets in two different universes. Among our other capabilities is the ability to breach the barriers between dimensions. Normally we wouldn't do this, as the chance to screw something up royally is too great."

"I can see that could be a bad thing. So my question would now be, why are you here?"

"That's a rather long and involved story that spans hundreds of thousands of years, but the gist of it is that prior to the evolution of human kind on our Earth, there was a precursor race we call the Ancients. Now, these Ancients were very advanced. They had the ability to travel between planets in the same amount of time that it takes you or I to take a gulp of our coffee. They had great cities in space, they had thousands of colony worlds and they were at a place where we hope our own races could achieve in our lifetimes. No war, no disease, no poverty, no famine. But they found the universe to be a lonely place. So they set out to breach the barriers between dimensions to see if other universes were just as empty of life. They were, empty of life that is. In several universes that showed promise and potential, the Ancients left behind a caretaker or an outpost world, in some cases both of these, to assist the younger races. To nurture them and to prevent them from wiping themselves out.

"Three years ago, four of those caretakers paid a visit to our resident Ancient, to ask for help. And now we are here, to correct a mistake. We are not here to engage in war against the Federation, or to defeat your enemy. Just here to correct a mistake, and to make sure that certain individuals survive a crucial period in your history."

"I see. But what does all this have to do with Lt. Phillipson?"

"I'm coming to that. As I said, I am from a different Earth. In fact, each of the universes we have visited prior to yours, have also had a planet named Earth. We have found in our travels that despite the differences between Earths, there are also a vast number of similarities. So, with that in mind, can you tell me if, in your history, there was a man known to our history as Alexander the Great?"

"Yes. In our history, he was elevated to the throne at a very young age and managed to unite a large chunk of the Ancient world before his death of natural causes at sixty-two."

"In our history, Alexander the Great was elevated to the throne upon the death of his father, also at a young age. But in our history, he died in his early thirties, after having conquered most of the Ancient world. On our world, there evolved a separate race of humans. They were created by the Ancients to act as guides and teachers and defenders. They were given one very special ability to carry out this daunting task. Immortality. The man you met on the planet, Lieutenant Phillipson, is Alexander the Great."

"I think I need to sit down."

"Here, this might help."

Rasczak took the proffered glass of whiskey and drank it down in one gulp. He'd heard a lot in his time as a soldier. He'd taught a lot in his time as an instructor of History and Moral Philosophy. But nothing in his experience could have prepared him for the realization that he'd met Alexander of Macedonia. It was a heady feeling.

"Feeling a bit overwhelmed?"

"A bit, yes. And you Admiral? Are you also one of these Immortals?"

"I am. My ancestry is Roman as opposed to Alex's Macedonian. In my time I was a Pro Consul, a Senator in the Roman Senate, a commander of her armies and a general of a legion. Alex was born around 300 BC, and I'm a bit older having been born around 500 BC. But, I am not the elder of my kind. That title is reserved for my Executive officer. He's not entirely sure of his birth date, but we modeled the star patterns that he remembers to some point between eight and ten thousand years before the birth of Christ."

"Got any more of that whiskey?"

"Here you go. I'll just leave the bottle out for now. You see, I seem to have a problem. My people acted in good faith when we heard the distress call from your outpost. We went down to do our best to save the lives there. But we didn't get there in time. We did save the lives of you and your team, however. And how were we treated for this? A Colonel Jenkins and a Captain Deladier tried to take myself and my people hostage. Hoping that the acting Captain of the _Halsey_ would trade our technology for our safe return. What your people failed to realize is that while yes, you are advanced, we too have our own advancements. Some of those advancements render your ships unable to damage ours. So now, in a few hours, I will be on the planet below meeting with your Sky Marshall. Since you now know more about us than any on your side, perhaps you could act as an 'advisor' to your Sky Marshall. Both of our peoples are providing security for the conference, which will be held on P. So, either you can go down with me in a _Bulldog_ transport, or you can ride down with me in a deployment pod."

"How do you normally transport troops to the surface of a planet?"

"_Bulldog_ for a small force, deployment pod for a much larger force, or transport beam for a quick strike force."

"Deployment pod sounds like our drop boats. I think I'll try that."

"Are your drop boats the same as your rescue boats?"

"Same thing."

"Then I think our deployment pod is going to blow your mind."

----------------------------------------

_**Two hours later**_

The Terran Federation MI troopers had landed in force to clean up the facility known as Whiskey Outpost. The walls had been rebuilt, and new flooring laid down over the old. The bodies had been recovered. Mobile Infantry troopers manned the towers with weapons pointed out at the surrounding landscape. They were waiting for the delegation from the _Halsey_ to arrive. The troops on the ground received word that the delegation was on its way.

In orbit over the planet, the _Halsey_ was preparing to launch the deployment pod. Marius was seated in the command section with Lieutenant Rasczak. They were watching the monitors showing the view just outside the deployment pod.

"_Halsey_, we are ready for deployment. Launch the 'Furies into CAPs over the planet and around the pod."

"Confirmed, Pod One. You are cleared to deploy."

The latches securing the pod released from the _Halsey_ and the pod broke free. A quick firing of thrusters pushed the pod away from the _Halsey_. A moment later it was a thousand meters away from the mother ship, and turning for atmospheric insertion. The pod entered the atmosphere and those on the ground below saw only an immense fireball coming down towards the outpost. The fireball resolved itself to a large squared off cylinder that was maneuvering for a landing.

Retro rockets fired, slowing the descent, and allowing the anti-gravity drive systems to come to full strength. The pod came to a hover, some two hundred feet above the ground, approximately one-half kilometer from the outpost. Pitons fired into the ground, and the pod reeled itself onto the ground. Leveling outriggers deployed bringing the pod into a level position for launching its aircraft.

The rockets ceased their firing and the engines wound down. The top of the pod opened like a clamshell and ramps came down from both of the long sides of the pod. Those in Whiskey outpost could not identify the vehicles that were coming down the ramps, but they were APCs with mobile shield generators, followed by hundreds of troopers. The APCs and their support troopers took up positions around the perimeter of the outpost, while combat engineers deployed portable shield generators around the outpost. MLRS vehicles came out next followed closely by Paladin self-propelled guns. These moved out to surround the pod, staying within the shield bubble the pod put out.

From the upper section of the deployment pod, fighters were lifting off, straight up into the air before moving horizontally to take up CAP orbits over the outpost. A pair of AEW helicopters lifted off to provide long range radar coverage for the pod, and Longbows and Werewolves were flying search patterns looking for any signs of Bug activity. Marius and his staff walked up to the outpost.

"Sky Marshall. Captain Deladier. Colonel Jenkins. So good to see you again. I did say I would provide some of the security for this meeting, didn't I?"

"You did. Though I'm fairly certain we weren't expecting your method of deployment."

"Perhaps not. As promised, your Lieutenant Rasczak. It may take him a while to get used to his new prostheses, but he is returned to you unharmed."

"Lieutenant? Is this true?"

"It is, Marshall Meru. The medical staff of the _Halsey_ were most kind. I was treated as an honored guest at all times."

"Better than we treated them, so it seems."

"So it would seem, ma'am."

"Admiral Ramos. Will you be negotiating for your side?"

"No. I'll leave the negotiations in the very capable hands of my First Contact and Diplomatic team. I'm only here to make sure this conference is secure."

"And who would that be?"

"Major Fox Mulder as the chief negotiator, Dr. Daniel Jackson as his aide, and Lieutenant Alex Phillipson as our military liaison."

"You appoint a mere lieutenant as a liaison officer? What is the meaning of this insult?"

"Sky Marshall Meru, speaking as someone that has gotten to know them over the last few hours, I believe, that were I in your place, I would be deeply honored to have Lt. Phillipson at the same table as I."

"Rasczak? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I have not Marshall Meru."

"Your record speaks well of your abilities. I shall take your counsel for now. But you have just become my own military liaison."

"Of course."

It wasn't a matter of making any introductions, though Mulder tried to do so. But as far as Tehat Meru was concerned, the two parties were there for only one reason. The Terran Federation wanted as much technology as they could get away with. These other humans, wherever they were from, needed to recognize the power of the Federation. They needed to be made aware that only the Terran Federation was destined to rule over the universe. But his training as a psychologist, and his years of profiling the worst criminal minds humanity had ever produced, gave him an instant insight into Tehat Meru. And he gained said insight just by looking at her and how she approached the table. She was arrogant. Extremely arrogant. That was incredibly apparent in her stride. From this he inferred that she saw himself and the others from the AIS strike fleet as something far beneath her, like a shark not really looking at its prey, but at its meal.

"Sky Marshall Meru, I presume. I am..."

"It matters not who you are. You are here to negotiate on behalf of your Admiral Ramos. That is sufficient for me."

"Very well, Marshall Meru. What is it you want from us?"

"Everything. Your shield technology, your beam transportation technology. Your energy weapons. Your gravitic drive systems. We want everything."

"I see. And what do you offer in return?"

"We offer you your lives. We will allow you to leave our space unharmed."

"My, but you are a very humorous woman! For a split second, I almost believed you were serious!"

"I am serious. You will turn over these technologies to us, or we will kill you one by one."

"Ma'am, you do realize our forces outnumber yours?"

"But our forces are superior to yours. You are a primitive race. The vehicles that came out of your deployment pod look like those from our own history. Vehicles that existed more than three hundred years ago. There are numerous races in your crew, or so I am led to understand. I believe that none of your technology was developed by your race. I believe you have adopted the technology of others, therefore you can not deny us that same technology."

"If you truly believe that, then you are severely mistaken. Lieutenant, I do believe these people are in need of a little demonstration, don't you?"

"I believe I agree with you."

"Alex, are all of their forces inside the compound?"

"They are within the perimeter. I shall move our troops under cover. One blast or two?"

"Let's start with one full salvo."

"I concur. Do you concur, Marshall Meru?"

"What in God's name are you talking about Major?"

"Just sit still and watch, Sky Marshall."

The troops from the Federation were all within the perimeter and the troops from the _Halsey_ were all under cover. Outside the deployment pod, the Paladin self-propelled guns raised their barrels to the sky and let loose with one round each, bracketing the target area with dense white smoke. Meru could no longer see beyond the compound, but she heard a distant sound like hundreds of angry bees. The white smoke was obscuring everything in sight around the compound. She looked up, driven by some primitive instinct to do so, and saw hundreds of rockets arch over the compound and split open. She had no way of knowing that the _Halsey_ crews had set up portable shield generators around the compound. She truly believed at that moment, that she had made a serious miscalculation in her opening statement.

The rockets had spilt apart, raining down hundreds of small bomblets, which began exploding when they impacted the shield above them. Mulder, Jackson, and Phillipson looked up once and then looked away. They were trying to make this look like it was a routine event, shells impacting on the shields. But for Tehat Meru, the explosions all around her were driving a deep spike of fear into her very heart. As quickly as the explosions started, they ended.

"Mulder, instead of going through the motions here, why not ask a high authority for an opinion?"

"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"

"If it starts with a 'T' and ends with an 'A', then yes."

"You tried to kill us! What the hell are you thinking man!"

"You threatened us first, Meru. You demanded our technologies and offered us our lives in return. We wanted to demonstrate the power of our advanced technologies, just so you can understand what you are dealing with. The rounds of smoke, obscured your view of the deployment pod, so you were unable to see what was coming next. That was done so as to raise your level of fear. You must realize that we are no better than you are. We are your equals, not some minor bug to be squashed beneath your feet. And speaking of bugs, it was you that invaded their space, right?"

"How could you know that?"

"It tracks with your arrogant attitude. Wouldn't you agree Tok'Ra?"

"I would Fox. For an infant member of my own race, you have wisdom beyond your years."

Meru, Jenkins, and Deladier were startled by the appearance of a gaseous cloud in their midst. It was golden in color, but transparent in nature, with sparkling particles of some unknown substance in chaotic orbits throughout the cloud.

"What the hell is that?"

"The 'that' that you are referring to is I. Tok'Ra. I am an Ancient. A member of the precursor race that seeded this galaxy and others like it, with life. These beings of the _Halsey_ are under my protection. They are here at my request. The task I set out for them has nearly been completed. There are five questions that remain to be answered. Once these queries have been resolved, they will depart your space. Now, will you comply, or will you die?"

"We will...comply."

"Michael? Are you listening? My children have done as you asked. But those whom you guide here are behaving no better than the Goa'uld of our own universe. You have asked us to save the One, and we have done so. With the guidance of the One, the others will survive now. This is what you wanted, yes?"

"It is, old friend. I regret that my own wayward children have acted so badly. After so many millennia in this place, weaving their fates into a masterpiece tapestry, I find myself at a loss for what to do next. It makes me wonder at times, if someone else controls my own fate."

"There is much to be said for free will, old friend. The young ones believe themselves to be the masters of their own fates, the captains of their own ships, but how little they know. I am unsure how much of the history here is the same as the history of the humans from our own universe. There was a man by name of Sophocles who wrote 'Fate has terrible power. You cannot escape it by wealth or war. No fort will keep it out, no ships outrun it.' But I tend to prefer 'The Moving Finger writes, and having writ, moves on.'"

"Pretty words Tok'Ra. Who wrote the last?"

"It comes from a book native to our home world, called the Rubaiyat. There have been many who have tempted fate and who have both lived and died because of Fate. You who control the fates of these men and women, who controls the fate of this universe, you must act now to save your tapestry. One day, it will be complete, and on that day, one of our Children will be there to take your place, to guide the next generation through the rivers of time. But I have need of you here. The humans of this universe will recognize you more easily than they will me. It has been how long since you last appeared to them?"

"Centuries. But the recognition of my form is encoded to their genetic structure. I come, now!"

To the astonishment of the members of the Terran Federation, a second ball of gas appeared in the sky above the compound. It was perfectly spherical and mostly transparent. There were particles of matter swirling throughout the cloud, that slowly coalesced into the shape of a human face. It was a classic face, like one that could be found on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Long flowing white hair and a white beard. A face wrinkled and creased by the endless passage of time. The Federation troopers took one look at the face and fell prostrate to the ground. Some viewed the face as that of Jesus Christ, some as the God that Moses worshipped. Others as the God that Mohammed worshipped. It was a genetically engineered response, programmed into the Humans of this universe when their Earth had first been seeded with life. It was the same technique the Ancients had taught to the Vorlons and the Shadows in another universe. The Humans from the _Halsey_ only saw a glowing ball of gas.

"My children. You have come far in so short a time. But so many of my children have passed beyond. So many worlds seeded with life have proven more than that primitive life could bear. But you have taken that adversity that your planet has given unto you and turned it to advantage. Yet here you find yourselves, fighting an enemy you will have to dig deep into yourselves to win against.

"This universe is full of life, but you have explored not even one percent of it. So many adventures await you. There are races you will call friend, and there are races who will believe themselves superior to your own. But the race you have encountered here these who look like you, who think like you, who love and hate like you, they are your brothers.

"You have come so far. I have watched over you always. I have been there since your beginnings, when you fought brother against brother, each of you trying to carve out an Earthly empire of your own. I have watched as you emerged from the trees of your home world, as you joined together for mutual protection, as you formed villages, and cities, as you formed states and nations. I watched as you took your first tentative steps into space, as you filled the space surrounding your home world with primitive satellites.

"I watched as you advanced scientifically, first mastering basic mathematics, and then delving into the realm of sub-atomic physics. I looked on with horror as you used what you had learned to destroy cities, but I realized also that this was a necessary step along your evolutionary path.

"You are an aggressive species. Perhaps too aggressive for your own good. Time will prove whether or not this true. Time and Fate. For I am the guide for your fates. You are the masters, navigating the rivers of your lives, but I am the one who will guide your course.

"These brothers of yours, from across the heavens, they have come at my request. There was an error in the tapestry of time and fate. An error I could not correct. I asked my brother, Tok'Ra, for his assistance. He sent his own children to assist me in my task. They have done well. It is time for them to leave this place. They will never return here. Before they leave, I have five questions to ask of my own children.

"Jean Rasczak. You are a strong leader among your kind. You are destined for greatness as a soldier among your kind. But these children of Tok'Ra face an enemy that make the native inhabitants of Klendathu pale in comparison. If you join the _Halsey_, you will be allowed to return to this place. The things you will learn under their tutelage, will decide how your race advances to their next logical step.

"Juan Rico. You have within you the potential to become a Sky Marshall, if that is your ultimate desire. If not, you will still become a great leader among your kind. The skein of your fate has much thread to run, and it will touch and intersect with so many others. You may or may not decide to join with those on the _Halsey_, but you will have the same opportunity to return if you do so.

"Carmen Ibañez. As a pilot, there is no equal to you in this universe. There are men and women aboard the _Halsey_, and in the place from which they come, that can run circles around you on your best day. To you I pose the same question. Go with the crew of the _Halsey_, learn what you can and then return to assist your comrades in arms.

"Dizzy Flores. It is not your fate to be a strong leader, as your fate hinges on the actions of others. Under the tutelage of Alexander of the _Halsey_, and of others like him, you could be a great strategist. In this place, all you can do is study the actions of the one you call Alexander the Great. On the _Halsey_, you could become his apprentice. The difference in strategies, between theirs and yours, could mean the difference between victory and defeat for your Terran Federation. You may go with them, if you desire, and you will return, again if you desire.

"Ace Freehy. Leadership is not in your future. Yet you are perhaps one of a very few soldiers that cares about the well being of your fellow soldiers. To you I pose the same question.

"To the rest of you, I have to say that I am somewhat disappointed how your planet has developed in a political sense. More than half of your population has no right to say what does or does not happen to them. The principles of democracy as set down by ancient empires have been lost. Instead, you have a form of government that is closer to fascism in terms of ideology than any other in the known universe. But while you wage war against a species vastly different from your own, know this. There are other races in your universe that are far more dangerous than the Arachnids.

"As a species, you still have much to learn about tolerance. You still have far to go in your evolution before you can be offered the stewardship of a younger race. You could unit this entire galaxy under your banner, but there are races in the universe, in other galaxies whose empires stretch across multiple galaxies. You are still very young. You still have much growing up to do. And I will be here, always, to guide you. And when, in the fullness of time, you reach your pinnacle of evolution and begin to guide the younger races, my time here will be completed, and I will move on, to join my brothers and sisters, beyond the great veil.

"Now you must choose. Make your decision."

"Before any of you speak, I have something to do add. The Ancient here, your steward of your fates, has alluded to apprenticeships under Alexander. While Alex was once a great leader of men, and indeed a King of Macedonia, there are others among us from which you can learn much. To list but a few, two Roman generals, two Scottish chieftains, a Celtic general, and an Egyptian general. There are citizens of Luna that have been alive for thousands of years. Among them is myself. I am Commander Adam Pierson, also known as Methos. Once upon a time, I was known by a much different name. Together with three of my brothers, we roamed across the world, striking fear and terror into a primitive man. It is in response to the raids we carried out that civilization arose. Who was I? I was Death, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

There was silence in the compound. It was one thing to say Alexander the Great was among them. Quite another to have a living representative of a Biblical myth in their presence. Only it wasn't a myth. But there were many looks of disbelief among the Federals. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse was something out of ancient history for them. There was no real evidence that they'd ever existed. Yet here was this man claiming to be one of them. Not just one of the Horsemen, but perhaps the most feared of them; Death. The Bible claimed Death would ride in on a pale horse and that power was given to him over a fourth of the Earth to kill. There was much to be learned at his side, but only for someone brave enough to accept the inherent challenge that lay with befriending Death himself.

"Well, uhm. If it's all the same to you, Mr. Horseman, I think Mother Freehy didn't raise me to go traipsing around the universe. I'll stay here."

"First off, let me say that I am extremely grateful to the medical crews aboard the _Halsey_ for the gift of my new legs and my new arm. I thought for certain that I was dead on that last mission. This war is far from over, and though I do believe I could learn a lot from you, I regret that I must stay. Someone has to make sure that this generation of Citizens is not the last in the Federation."

"You say that here I am the best pilot. I've known that all along. But you also say that the _Halsey_ has far better pilots than me? This is hard to believe. But there is something I trust about you. I have nothing left in this place. My family was killed when the Bugs wiped Buenos Aires off the map. I think that I should like to learn more about the profession I have chosen. I think that I will go with them, but only on the condition that I be allowed to return when my studies with them are completed."

"You will be allowed to return."

"You say that I could one day be a Sky Marshall, that this is my fate. I say that I am the master of my fate. I and only I control this. I feel that I can learn much at the knee of Alexander. If he is who he claims to be, a man who once commanded an army of over forty thousand, a man who conquered sixteen countries in an age where men fought with swords and spears, then I can learn much from such a man. I will go."

"You will be allowed to return."

"I agree with Rico. I am the master of my own destiny. But like Carmen, I have no one left in this place. My entire family was wiped out at BA. And like the Lieutenant, I owe my life to the medics aboard the _Halsey_. I could feel myself dying, my life's blood pouring out of me. The last thing I remembered was a brilliant white light surrounding me, and then I awoke in some sort of gilded coffin. Alive and in one piece. My uniform was in tatters, but my skin was whole. I don't understand what kind of medical magic that was, but I owe my life to them. If I can learn something in the process that will make me a better soldier, then I too will go."

"You will be allowed to return."

"Wait a minute here! I'm more intelligent than Rico or Flores! Why not me? Why didn't you choose me?"

"Carl Jenkins. Among your kind, you are a mental king. Among the races of the universe, you are of feeble mind. You have dared to examine the mind of one our children. Be eternally grateful that he did not deign to push off your mental invasion in a most just form. You are egotistical and believe you have no limits in this world. For this reason alone, you were not among the chosen. Learn humility. It will be of use to you in the future.

"The Choosing is complete. The task for Tok'Ra and our children is completed. Tok'Ra, you have done well in your rearing of our children. I am proud to say that at least one of our experiments proved fruitful even beyond my own dreams. When my task is at last complete, I will join our brethren. But not yet. Not yet."

"Admiral! We've got movement! Lots and lots of movement!"

"Sky Marshal Meru, you are critical to your war effort. We'll buy time for you and your party to escape."

"Agreed. Captain Deladier! Pass along word to the fleet to begin a landing!"

"Captain! Tell you're people they'll be landing under fire, but we'll give them all the cover we can!"

"Thank you!"

Radar sensors on the AEW helicopters were screaming like mad, showing solid blobs of incoming enemies from all directions. Marius gave immediate orders to the deployment pod to relocate immediately behind the compound, so that its shields could be stretched over the compound. The move was quickly accomplished and with shield spikes driven ten meters into the ground in a perimeter around the compound, the ground beneath the compound became impenetrable.

In the distance, fire from the Longbows and Werewolves could be heard, protecting the AEW SeaKing and attempting to slow down the masses of insects headed for them. The SeaKing was pulled back to the shield coverage of the deployment pod. But the attack choppers kept pouring on fire at the enemy. They were joined by the Paladin units as they began laying down a perimeter of high explosive shells into the path of the oncoming enemy.

From above, _Al'kesh_ bombers and _Thunderbolt_ fighter-bombers were laying down heavy volumes of bombing runs, trying to disrupt the enemy masses, but it was seemingly no use. Though hundreds, perhaps tens of hundreds, of the enemy had been vaporized under the relentless pounding of plasma bombs and high explosive shells, more appeared to take their place.

The scout ships _Rio_ _Bravo_ and _Nueces_ came down hard and fast, flying three hundred feet apart. The torpedo launchers were firing continuously as were the phasers, cutting a wide swath in the field of attacking Bugs that was almost instantly replaced by more of the Bugs. Behind them were the _Salado_, the _Guadalupe_, the _Brazos_ and the _Colorado_. More scout ships operating in pairs, mowing down wide swaths of Bugs only to have more Bugs take their place. But the brief respites of mowed down bugs gave those in the compound a few seconds of precious time with which to reload weapons and prepare for the next in an endless assault wave.

The big heavy caliber guns in the towers were chattering away at the incoming hostiles. Bullets passed easily from the inside of the shield to those targets outside the shield, but those same targets outside the shield were running into the proverbial brick wall. For a moment it appeared as though the Arachnid warriors were stunned by the appearance of this new barrier. But only for a moment. Far to the rear, those in the towers saw huge beetle shaped bugs turn around and point their tail ends at the compound. The AIS gunners had no clue what this meant until they saw great blue-white gobs of stuff being launched from the bugs at them.

The bug plasma was very efficient on un-shielded targets, but proved no more deadly than rain on a roof to the shields. Rockets from the MLRS kept falling in a circular pattern starting at its closest point of six hundred yards out from the compound to a distance of twenty-four hundred yards beyond that point. The insects within that eighteen hundred yard strip were incinerated from the high heat of the explosives, or shredded by the fragmentation warheads. The Paladin guns were firing long range shots, trying to take out the bug artillery. Here and there, high explosive rounds struck true and great big gouts of bug plasma exploded into the air, raining down on their comrade bugs, melting them into pools of insect blood and guts.

Elsewhere, the attack helos had pulled back to the shield coverage of the deployment pod. That left the major air-to-ground punishment to be delivered by the Yaks and the Harriers, who flew in and darted side to side, laying down a combination of explosive and incendiary ordinance. Cluster bombs and napalm were falling, bullets were flying, and Methos wondered if all the Federals had left the planet. He looked up for a moment to see a sight he never thought he'd see. Six of the eight battlecruiser escorts were coming down through the atmosphere, to lay down heavy firepower with their heavy phaser cannons, neutron beams, and anti-matter torpedoes.

After what seemed like hours later, but was only minutes, new ships began dropping down through the atmosphere. Deployment boats from the fleet in orbit overhead. With new targets coming down, many of the large beetle-type Bugs pointed their tails skyward and began launching great blue blobs of plasma at them. Many of the blobs continued harmlessly past the dropping boats only to encounter the fleet in orbit.

In orbit over the planet, the blobs of plasma were finding targets in the too closely spaced fleet. Here and there plasma fire met unshielded ship and chaos reigned supreme. The communications lines were jammed with calls of 'Mayday' repeating over and over. The _Halsey_ and her escorts could do naught but stand by and watch as so many large and powerful ships fell victim to the Bug plasma. Search and Rescue craft were launched from the _Halsey_, and her many escorts began moving through the battered fleet, beaming up passengers in escape pods, saving them from a more gruesome death on the surface of the planet below.

One such escape pod from the _Rodger Young_ was missed in the confusion and it was forced into a crash landing on the planet, careening off a low hill and penetrating the ground, eventually coming to a stop in a subterranean tunnel. Its two passengers regained consciousness quickly after the landing and pulled emergency weapons from the storage compartment at the rear of the pod. They soon found themselves surrounded by Bugs.

In the compound known as Whiskey Outpost, the troopers of the _Halsey_ were giving as good as they could to cover the landing of troops on the surface. The Yaks and Harriers withdrew just long enough to rearm and refuel at the deployment pod, but the Apaches and Werewolves were still going strong, and making their presence felt on this most surreal of battlefields. Here and there, the new photon tanks and photon artillery were making forays into the advancing Bug hordes, firing their weapons, and vaporizing large masses of Bugs. Every one of the troopers knew full well that this battle could not be allowed to degenerate to a hand-to-hand phase. If it were to fall that far, they all realized that most of them would die. Bullets were flying, grenades were exploding, but still they came, to meet more bullets and more grenades. More bombs fell, and more air-to-ground missiles hit the Bugs, but still they came forward. It was like a never ending river gushing forth, spilling the enemy on to the field of battle.

In a tunnel beneath the surface, Zander Barcalow, one half of the flight team that had called the _Rodger Young_ home had been killed. The 'Brain' Bug had sucked his brain dry of its contents, both literally and figuratively. Lieutenant Carmen Ibañez lay on the ground, pinned to it by a Bug foot that pierced her body at the shoulder.

At Whiskey Outpost, the difference in the flow of attacking bugs was noticeable. As if a switch had been flipped, the Bugs began to fall back to their tunnel openings. Bombers flew overhead, dropping their payloads and sealing the tunnels for the time being. One by one, the guns fell silent, until silence reigned supreme. The crackling of fires could be heard on the ground near the outpost; the planes and helicopters still flew overhead, but silence reigned everywhere else. Cans of ammunition and pods of rockets were passed along the line, giving the defenders time to rearm themselves.

At the deployment pod, ammo trucks streamed out to re-equip the Paladins and the MLRS units. Reinforcements were sent to the outpost, to give the defenders on the walls a chance to pull back and regroup their sanity.

On the _Halsey_, fighters and bombers were being turned as quickly as possible for more ground support missions, while the SAR craft continued to make runs to retrieve life pods ejected from the various fleet ships, and the bodies trapped in damaged sections of ships. The secondary launch deck was a mess of wounded undergoing triage. The critical ones were moved into stasis pods and sarcophagi, while the less critically wounded were beamed directly to various aid stations around the ship. Every medic, doctor, and EMH was busily stitching up the wounded coming in from the fleet.

Lieutenant Juan Rico and his squad of Roughnecks emerged from the tunnel, one rescued pilot in hand, to find victory. Rico's former Drill Sergeant, now a Private, had managed to capture a Brain Bug. The crowd fell silent as Colonel Carl Jenkins approached the Bug and laid his hands on it. He was doing what he had attempted to do to the Immortals of the _Halsey_ fleet. He was attempting to scan the Bug. Behind him an unknown General asked him, 'What's it thinking, Colonel?'

"It's afraid. It's afraid!"

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"_Halsey_ to _Buenos_ _Aires_. We hope our little diversion helped you below."

"It did. Our troopers have secured the surface and we have carried out our mission objectives. We understand your craft rescued many of the personnel from the damaged ships of the fleet?"

"Our SAR craft are still moving through the damaged ships, but we have recovered well over a thousand personnel. We are treating them as fast as we are able to, and moving them into temporary quarters until we can transfer them to one of your ships."

"I believe I misjudged you, Admiral. Without your help here today, I fear our casualty rate would have been devastatingly higher. How can we repay you?"

"There are ships in your fleet that have been shorn in two. Perhaps you could see your way clear to giving us one of those ships?"

"Pick any one of those ships. You will repair it?"

"We will. Then we will be on our way. In fact, my people have already picked out a ship, the _Douglas_ _Munro_."

"Very well."

The two fleets moved apart. On one side, those in the Federal fleet began to asses the damages from the latest mission. Planet P had been pacified to a small extent, yet unless all of the Bugs there were eradicated, it would never be compatible with Human life. The fleet began a bombing action, and dozens of nuclear devices were dropped on the surface, turning large parts of the planet into fields of glass.

Opposite the fleet, the _Halsey_ and her escorts had towed the damaged sections of the _Douglas_ _Munro_ to a parking orbit near the _Halsey_ and the two fleet tenders. Docking cradles were extended, and the tremendous task of repairing the _Munro_ began in earnest.

When the repairs were completed, almost six weeks later, the ship was as good as new and now sported full shields. The remaining troopers from the _Halsey_, less than two thousand of them, had been moved over to the _Douglas_ _Munro_, along with all their equipment. Pilots of the helicopters and planes would now serve double duty as drop ship instructors until such time as enough new drop and retrieval ship pilots had been fully trained.

The last thing to happen was the final transfer of personnel from the _Halsey_ fleet to the Federal fleet and the coming aboard of three Federals to the _Halsey_.

"_Halsey_, all of our troops have been recovered. You have three of ours aboard your vessel? The ones who will join you to learn from you?"

"They are safely aboard. When next we meet, if we meet, perhaps it will be as friends, yes?"

"Yes."

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"Mr. Jameson. Ship status?"

"All boards show green. All fighters recovered."

"Very well. Our guests?"

"They are being shown to their quarters."

"Have them brought up here. I want them to see where they are going."

"Aye sir."

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"Lieutenant Rico and company reporting as ordered sir!"

"As you were, Rico. I thought you and your two comrades would like to see where we are going."

"We would sir."

"Very well. Ms. Ibañez, take a seat behind the navigation officer. Ms. Flores, behind the sensor officer, and Mr. Rico, up here with me."

"Mr. Jameson, bring engines up to full power."

"Full power, aye sir."

"Weapons officer, bring shields to full power."

"Shields to full, sir."

"Full power to the dimensional projectors."

"Full power, aye!"

"Jump. Now!"

"Jumping, sir!"

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Aboard the _Rodger Young_, Captain Deladier and her bridge crew were watching the _Halsey_. Space suddenly seemed to rip apart in front of the Alliance vessel and for a split second it seemed to hang on a precipice. Then the ripped open space swallowed the vessel and her escorts and they disappeared from sensors.

"Sensor officer! Report!"

"Sensors indicate the _Halsey_ opened a tear into what can only be described as another dimension of space. The vessels entered the tear and space reformed behind their passage. There is nothing to indicate the presence or lack thereof of the tear."

"Speculate."

"The vessel _Halsey_ and its crew are not from this dimension."

"Interesting. Send all sensor readings to Starside Research on Earth. Maybe they can find something useful."

"Yes ma'am!"

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	8. Persistence, Pt 4

_Persistence_

_Part 3 of the Potentials Series_

_Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible._

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_**Part 4**_

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The _Halsey_ was once again in a void of nothingness. Everywhere there was white light, but nothing visible on sensors or to the naked eye could determine the source of the light. Around the _Halsey_, crews went about conducting routine maintenance. The Forge deck was busily churning out munitions to replace those that had been expended in the last universe.

On deck eight, a batch of pilots was undergoing advanced training in the simulators on the holodeck. It was to this place that Carmen Ibañez was brought to, to undergo basic flight training in Major Carter's holographic simulators.

"Pilot Ibañez. That sounds wrong. Do you have a rank?"

"Lieutenant, ma'am."

"Don't call me 'ma'am'. It makes me feel old. Try Major instead."

"Yes Major."

"Ok then. The first simulator we're going to put you into is that of our F-302 _Mustang_ fighters. These are space superiority fighters armed with plasma-based lasers and six missiles, three per wing. The F-302 is capable of a limited hyperspace jump which when you are facing extreme odds, can mean the difference between life and death. Using a hyperspatial jump, you can put enough distance between you and your opponents such that escape becomes easier. The most you can jump is approximately five light minutes in one go. That will give you enough of an advantage to retreat to fight another day. The simulator will start you off against Goa'uld Udajeet type fighters. Once you can hold your own against them, I'll make it harder."

"Harder? You mean you're starting me off with the easy stuff?"

"Yes. Standard procedure."

"Start me off at the highest level, Major. Let me show you I can perform at that level."

"Very well. Your funeral."

Carmen entered the simulator and put on the communications gear. The rear controls were slaved to her own up front, so she could control the plane and fight as well. The controls proved somewhat intuitive to her and after a bit of flying alone, she felt she was ready for the enemy. Major Carter saw this and re-armed Carmen's fighter, and re-set the fuel levels to full indications.

The first thing Carmen saw was an even half dozen pyramid-type ships. Her fighter was part of a flight of eighteen F-302 fighters, though the other seventeen ships were computer generated. The AI systems aboard were equivalent to poorly trained Jaffa.

As she maneuvered her fighter to make a strafing run, Major Carter was joined in the simulator control room by Colonel Starbuck and Teal'c.

"Major. Is this our new hotshot pilot?"

"She is. She thought the initial level was too weak for her talents. So I loaded up the 302 exam program. But instead of loading the ship killer missiles on her fighter, I loaded them on one in her flight. As you know, this particular mission is used to prep our flight leads. So far, she's behaving as if she's the only one out there. She's not covering her wingmen, and she's far too reckless with her fighter."

"She has no style, no technique. But there is raw talent within her. The Ancient would not have recommended her if there was no talent."

"That's true Teal'c. You think she can be trained to fly and fight?"

"I believe this is possible."

"I think she can hack it, Major. Between Teal'c and myself, we can turn out one hell of a pilot. The ranks of pilots we've already trained are proof of that. But we're going to have to break her of a few bad habits first."

"Good luck gentlemen. I think you're gonna need it."

In the simulator, Lieutenant Ibañez was in trouble. Her flight had been shot down and she was alone against insurmountable odds. She had fired off all of her missiles without getting decent targeting locks first, much to her chagrin. She was firing her lasers so much that they were dangerously close to overheating, and when that happened, she would be defenseless. Her finger was locked on the trigger and she was flying like a drunkard. She had what some people called 'buck fever'. She also had what some might refer to as tunnel vision. She had eyes only for the fighter twisting and turning to get away from her constant stream of fire, and was unaware of the large mass of fighters sitting calmly on her six. She was blissfully unaware until her fighter started to come apart under the concentrated fire of the fighters behind her. An instant later, she was standing in a room criss-crossed with glowing yellow lines set against a black background.

"I find her raw talent quite agreeable, Colonel Starbuck. She has much potential to be a decent pilot. But if she continues as she is, the only thing she will accomplish is an early and premature death."

"While I wouldn't have put it quite like that, my big friend, I'd have to say I agree with you. She wouldn't last two microns against the Cylons."

"Where did Major Carter go off to?"

"She has other duties to attend to. You, on the other hand, have classes to begin."

"Classes?"

"I will give you instruction in basic flight tactics. Colonel Starbuck will give you the advanced lessons. We will begin at 0800 hours tomorrow. Rest well."

In a separate, but smaller holodeck, Alex was standing with Rico and Flores, going over a basic introduction to Alliance weaponry for the upcoming battle simulation he was giving them. To better test their abilities, he'd said to them.

"Mr. Rico. Ms. Flores. Allow me to introduce you to the standard weapons of the ground forces of the Alliance. Most of our troopers use the P-90. It is a projectile weapon, not unlike the ones common to your Terran Federation. It is fed by a fifty round magazine which is loaded horizontally across the top of the weapon. The spent cases are ejected out the bottom of the grip in the stock. The next projectile weapon is a handgun, useful for close quarters combat. It is fed from a double stack eighteen round magazine and can fire in either single shot or three round mode.

"Next on the list is something we picked up a few universes ago. The locals there called it a PPG, or Pulsed Plasma Gun. It comes in both handgun and rifle configurations and is fed by what is called a helium capsule, or cap. The weapon supercharges a packet of helium transforming it into a packet of helium plasma, which can burn through a target if the target is hit repeatedly. However, because such a small amount of plasma is ejected from the weapon, one shot is not fatal. Multiple shots can also be survivable. It will all depend on how resilient a target you are attempting to take down.

"From another universe, we picked up these very nice next set of weapons. They also had a Federation, based on Earth. Their 'empire', for lack of a better word, stretches across over ten thousand light years, with over a thousand member worlds, and hundreds of colonies. Needless to say, the enemy they faced was an empire that made theirs look like yours.

"First is what they called a phaser pistol. It comes in a number of forms, ranging from a handheld unit shaped like a cracker, to something that looks more like an upside down 'L', to a compressed phaser rifle. All of these weapons have a variable setting, ranging from stun to kill to vaporize. The nice thing is, if you find yourself trapped somewhere, where it's either raining or snowing, you can set your phaser to stun, and shoot it at a rock. The rock will glow with radiant energy and keep you warm.

"You will find that the enemies in the simulation will use some variations of the weapons I've gone over here. The simulation is a standard training operation that all of our troopers have gone through at some point. Let's go over your objectives. Then you can examine what intelligence we have, and plan your assault. Your first objective is to approach the target covertly. If the enemy spots you, it's all over. Next you have to enter the enemy structure and find their computer core. In order for this mission to succeed, you'll have to download a copy of that computer core, without being discovered. Your last objective is to get back to the Stargate and get off the planet.

"You will be ringed down to the planet by a cloaked _Al'kesh_. The cargo hold of the _Al'kesh_ will have all the gear you could possibly need. You will face a combination of Jaffa and Cylon warriors. Here's one free hint for you. Cylons that are golden in color are usually leadership caste. Any questions?"

"None sir!"

"Now, are you ready to begin the simulation?"

"We're ready, sir!"

"Alright then. Step through that door there, and you'll find yourself aboard the _Al'kesh_. The ring in the center of the cargo hold is where you need to stand. Within the ring, that is. Good luck."

Rico and Flores stepped through the door to find themselves standing within a very spacious cargo hold. There were weapon and equipment lockers along the walls of the hold. Rico went up to a locker labeled clothing and took a look. After a glance at Dizzy, both of them stripped down and put on the digitally enhanced camouflage uniforms. The next locker held all manner of web gear and backpacks, ranging from day packs to expedition type packs. Each of them selected one that would enable them to carry a single day's worth of supplies. Then they turned to the weapons lockers. Each of them drew phase pistols and put them in the appropriate holsters. Flores drew a P-90 and twelve magazines. Rico tried the PPG rifle and stuffed fifty caps into his front pockets. Each of them drew eight fragmentation grenades and clipped them to the fronts of their vests.

Though Alex had given them enough information to find their way around the equipment lockers, and to select a decent load out, he hadn't told them everything. He'd neglected to mention what the round balls that Rico was looking at were. He'd neglected to tell them what a zat gun or staff weapon were capable of. He didn't tell them about the portable shield generators, or the Dominion cloaking technology. He wanted to see what they were capable of. He wanted to test their ability to adapt to strange and adverse situations. In short, he wanted to see how much un-teaching he was going to have to go through before turning out two well trained soldiers. Course, when one considered that Alex had not told them how to use a Stargate, or how to recognize a Goa'uld computer core, it was clearly evident that the mission was doomed to failure. But they'd had a chance to ask questions, and hadn't availed themselves of that opportunity.

"You ready Diz?"

"Ready as I'll ever be Johnny."

The two of them stood in the middle of the ring inscribed into the center of the hold and nearly jumped a foot into the air as the rings leapt up around them. A flash of light and a new set of rings found them inside a small cave. The rings dropped back into the ground, and there was no way to tell where they were.

The walls of the cave had some sort of luminescent algae, so it wasn't pitch black in the cave. Though Rico wished for a moment for some night vision gear. But only for a moment as they left the inner part of the cave and saw bright daylight beckoning to them from the entrance. The two of them moved as stealthily as possible, but without knowing the full extent of enemy troop disposition, it would be a near impossibility to find the target building without running across a patrol or two.

The cave was becoming a distant memory in their minds, along with the near misses with the two dozen patrols they nearly stumbled on. A mixture of foot and air patrols were everywhere on this planet, but the thick growth of the forest around them helped them. Suddenly, Rico dropped to his stomach as he breached the top of a small rise in the terrain. Flores dropped alongside him and both stared with something akin to awe at the massive structure that lay before them.

It was a pyramid. More massive in sheer size than what he remembered of the Khufu pyramid in his Egypt. It took his breath away. Dizzy looked at Rico for a moment before she spoke.

"So, Rico, how in the hell are we supposed to get in there?"

"I was thinking maybe a diversion, but there's just so many of them. Any ideas Diz?"

"I don't think there's any way we can accomplish the mission. Uhm, Rico? Alex said something about leaving via Stargate. So, ah, what's a Stargate?"

"I think you're right. I think we're screwed. What say we take as many of them as we can before they take us?"

"Go charging in? Or stay here on the high ground and bring them to us?"

"High ground, I think."

"High ground it is."

They were preparing to dig in when the ground disappeared to be replaced by criss-crossed yellow lines on a black background.

"The simulation is over. Had you continued with your plan, a follow-up raid would have been launched to rescue you from the prison cells you would have ended up in, and to complete your original mission. However, with the enemy now expecting us to attack, the odds on success of a follow-on mission would have been low."

"Why rescue us? Why risk it?"

"We don't leave anyone behind. The simulation you just took part in is considered the graduation exercise for our troopers. You'll see that one again in maybe three months. A new class has just started and you will join that class. I will be one of the instructors, along with Colonel O'Neill, Commander Pierson, and Teal'c among others. You're dismissed for now. Report back here for your first class at 0800 tomorrow."

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The _Halsey_ was still in the nothing dimension, that way station between universes where Tok'Ra allowed them to rest up before jumping to their next destination. Systems in dire need of maintenance had been brought back to full operational status. The last universe they'd been in had only stressed the flight crews and aircraft, but not the major offensive weapons of the ship. But even those had undergone their routine maintenance per schedule.

And where was Marco? Where any good Admiral should be. In his office, completing yet more paperwork. Even though most of the _Halsey_ was fully computerized, even though the Ferengi and the Federation had installed numerous upgrades that moved them to a ninety-nine percent paper free environment, there were still computerized reports that needed his approval. So when the knock came at his door, he was grateful to whomever it was that was 'interrupting' his work. Eternally grateful.

"Come!"

"Good morning, Admiral. I have that report you asked for."

"Oh? Which report might that be, Commander Roberts?"

"The promotions list you asked Bud and I to work on."

"Ah. The good list. Excellent! What about award recommendations?"

"Also here sir."

"Very good. This makes my day a whole lot brighter, Commander. Any other good news for me?"

"Actually sir, there is. Bud and I wanted you to be the first to know, that we're expecting a child in a little less than eight months from now."

"Congratulations Harriet! I'm sure the child will be strong and wise. I wonder how many others will be conceived on this voyage of ours?"

"Doctor Scully told me this was the first one."

"Hopefully, Commander, your child will not be the last. We have one more task to perform for Tok'Ra, and then we can go home. Tell me the truth, Harriet. Do you want your child to be born in space, or at home in Virginia?"

"Just so long as our child has all ten fingers and all ten toes, and just so long as everything works the way it's supposed to, then it doesn't matter to me where our child is born. But, I think Bud wants it born here on the _Halsey_. He's like that, Admiral."

"I could tell. Thank you Commander. I'll go over the list before lunch and get it back to your team for appropriate follow-up action."

"Of course, Admiral."

It was a long list, but Marco managed to get through the promotions list before lunch. He would tackle the award recommendations after a good meal. There were quite a number of names he recognized on the list for promotion. Alex Phillipson had been recommended for promotion to Captain by his peers. He deserved that after all the work he'd done to get his strike team through so many missions in one piece. Alex had recommended the members of his unit for promotions as well. Captain Phillipson would soon have a strike team composed almost entirely of Sergeants of one rank or another.

Some of the Bridge officers under his command were also on the list, at his and others recommendations. Lieutenant Jameson was on the list for lieutenant commander. The helm officer, Ensign Rivera, was also on the list for lieutenant. It was a shame he couldn't promote the Anla'shok they'd taken on as part of the crew before the left Babylon 5. The Ranger crews of the two _WhiteStar_ cruisers had performed above and beyond the call of duty during their battles with the Borg. He couldn't promote them, but he damned sure could give them medals. And maybe something more? He have to check to see if a gift was possible. In fact, the more he looked at the two lists before him, the more he saw that the majority of the promotions and awards earned had been during the Borg campaign. Two and a half years, fighting an enemy that wanted to take them over, quite literally take them over. Before that, about three months at Babylon 5, and after the Borg, less than two weeks in that fascist Terran Federation space. It was hard for him to imagine an Earth where the reigning government was a Fascist one. He'd thought for a moment that the Starfleeters were somewhat fascist. But in light of what he'd seen in that last universe, the Starfleeters were more pacifistic than fascistic.

But in retrospect, the universe of Starfleet and their United Federation was closer to Paradise than anything he'd seen in his travels, but even their Paradise had its snakes. He'd seen three universes that were different from his own, but there was one thing that was the same in all of those places. The battle between Good and Evil was ever present.

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_**Primary Mess Hall**_

_**AIS Halsey**_

"Admiral's on the deck!"

"At ease. Ladies and gentlemen, one of the proudest and happiest duties that I have performed in my centuries of life is the awarding of citations and the promotion to higher rank to those deserving of such. We started our journey some three years ago. Our original mission was to test the systems aboard the _Halsey_ to the best of our ability. As a sort of compromise, I was selected to serve as her first Admiral. I think that was done more for the reason that my team and I designed this great vessel, but my opinion and a couple of dollars might buy y'all one of those Klingon Raktajeenos that have become quite popular on this ship. But that's beside the point. It gives me great pleasure to announce the following promotions.

"Lieutenant Geoffrey Jameson. For attention to duty in the face of battle, for keeping the _Halsey_ running efficiently, and for being one hell of a watch officer, you are promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander in the Alliance Navy, pursuant to approval by the Alliance Council. Ensign Vittorio Rivera, for actions during the battle to defend Babylon 5 and for actions during the Borg campaign, promotion to Lieutenant."

The list went on and on for a bit over an hour. Promotions made to various personnel for their actions during combat and not. But before it was over, there were a few left to give out.

"Lieutenant Alexander Phillipson. It is the judgment of your peers and of your team that you have performed so far above and beyond the call of duty that you be raised in rank to Captain. For uncommon valor during the ground battles of System J25, I present you with the Alliance Star for Heroism, and the Alliance Dagger of Exemplary Service. For uncommon courage in the face of overwhelming odds during the siege of the Beta Quadrant Primary Nexus, two Clusters for your Heroism Star, and the Alliance Sash of Distinguished Service. And for tactical cunning for your part in leading a prong of the final assault against the Borg, the Alliance Staff of Valor. Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Alexander Phillipson!"

After the applause died down a bit, Marius called their attention for one more presentation.

"Shai Alyt Teraan. You have lead your crews well. Were you to be a member of the Alliance, I would recommend your promotion to Admiral. But you are not and I regret that I can not do this. For actions above and beyond the call of duty during the Borg campaign, for charging your ship at the enemy, though your ship was badly damaged, I award to you and your crew, the Alliance Star for Heroism. Though you, Shai Alyt Teraan, were grievously wounded in the battle of the First World, you still held on to your command and helped turn the tide in our favor. For this action, I award you the Alliance Sash of Distinguished Service.

"Shai Alyt Teraan. I have asked our Forge officers to prepare a special gift for you. When our journey home is complete, you will be granted leave to return home to Minbar and to the Army of Light. Though your two _WhiteStar_s will remain here, you will be given a new ship with which to make the journey. The Forge deck will be busily churning out one _Defiant_-class heavy escort for your usage. I asked them to enlarge the standard model so that a few extras will be available for you in your fight against those you call Shadows. In addition to jump engines with which you are so familiar, we have included our hyperspace window generators, hyperlaunch drives, and warp engines. The races in your universe do not have matter teleportation, but we have included Asgard, Ancient, and Starfleet matter transportation devices. The weapons suites are those that you have become familiar with; type XII phaser cannons and phase shifting torpedoes. All this, plus room for one hundred ground troopers, will make the vessel you go home in a most formidable one. I trust that you will use the ship wisely.

"Your race, the Minbari, have for millennia looked upon the Vorlons as your guides. Once upon a time, eons ago, the Vorlons and the Shadows, looked upon the Ancients as guides, as teachers. Perhaps in time, the younger races of your universe, will look upon you in the same way. The gift we give you today, in honor of the sacrifices you and your crews have made, can be used for good or ill. I, for one, pray that you use it for the good of all. Use it to help you stand on the bridge, where none may pass."

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Marco was back in his office, this time not looking at paperwork, but just sitting there. Staring at his desktop.

"Marius. Something troubles you?"

"Hello Tok'Ra. No, it's nothing major. I just wonder what has been happening at home while we've been traipsing through the multi-verse fixing things you and your kind should have fixed long ago."

"If it's any consolation, when you have completed your last mission for the Ancients, you will be returned to your home universe and only three months will have elapsed."

"I guess that's a good thing, yes?"

"It can be, young one. But there are many trials ahead of you and your crew. Once you return to your home, I will grant Doctor Jackson access to that which he has been seeking, a full record of the Ancients and where we went. For though your battle with the Goa'uld is still pending, there are other races, far more insidious than they. Races, which I am sad to say, very nearly defeated us, the Ancients. It forced us to do things which you would believe abhorrent in the extreme. Doctor Jackson seeks the lost city of the Ancients. I can tell you that this lost city is the Atlantis of your legends, though it is not located on Earth. Earth is our home, inasmuch as it is yours. The Ancients evolved on your world, and left it long ago, to travel to a new place. There we found an enemy that forced us to retreat back to Earth, where we began the Immortal project. And your Earth is the place from which we evolved to a higher plane of existence."

"I'm sure that Daniel will like that. Proving the existence of Atlantis will be a boon to his reputation. Then again, proving that the pyramids were far older than previously believed did not do well for his academic reputation."

"Yet he was proven correct in his theories."

"He was. One of our great philosophers wrote that change is the most difficult thing to accomplish."

"It is. But it is true simply because so many are unwilling to change. The Gathering set into motion certain events that will change the way the Tau'ri are viewed on the galactic stage. For like it or not, you are of the Tau'ri. You have lived among them for centuries. In time, you will be given the opportunity to evolve, but I would ask that you not do so. Once you do, it will become next to impossible to do more than guide the younger races. But there are many millennia to pass before you have need of that decision. Until then, as other Immortals say, watch your head, Marius."

"Thanks Tok'Ra."

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Nothingness lay before them. Nothingness lay behind them. Nothingness lay all around them. It had been an uneventful month since their last incursion into normal space. The three Terran Federation soldiers had adapted well to shipboard life. Pilot Lieutenant Ibañez had quickly mastered the intricacies of the F-302 and had advanced easily enough to the _Thunderbolt_ fighter that was now the standard atmospheric and space borne fighter in the various squadrons. There were a few _Mustang_ fighters left, and a few of the revised Colonial _Vipers_. Those fighters were very good at interception missions. They had proven themselves time and again against the Borg, a race which used capital ships exclusively. And so the _Cydonia_ and the _Tollana_ still used the Viper Mk III exclusively of all other fighter types, while the _Ryan_ and the _Kelowna_ used the F-302 _Mustang_. But the rest of the fleet had opted for the _Thunderbolt_, including the two _Nova_-dreadnoughts whose launch bays had been retrofitted to accept the _Thunderbolt_s. The remaining F-302 fighters had long ago been returned to the Forge deck to build other fighters.

Using the captured Borg data devices, and the data libraries given or bought from the other Federation (Starfleet) races, a single squadron of modified _Peregrine_-class fighters had been built. Though these fighters were actually too large to be considered as such, they were being put to use as command and control vessels for the other fighter squadrons. They carried a crew of eight; a pilot and navigator, an engineer and life support officer, and four weapons systems specialists, one of which also watched over the shields of the small vessel. The _Halsey_ fleet had been using the _Danube_-class scout ships as command and control units for the fighter squadrons, and to this end, the _Peregrine_s fit in readily, freeing up the scout ships for other duties. Hardpoints were added to the _Peregrine_s, enabling them to carry four phase shifting missiles externally, in addition to the micro-photon torpedo launchers, four of which were built into each wing, the way World War II fighters had guns mounted in their wings.

Ibañez was performing so well, according to Colonel Starbuck, that her next bit of instruction would be on the _Peregrine_, where she would become commander of a crew. Marius wondered how that would work, considering how head strong Carmen was. In the case of Rico and Flores, the two of them had mastered the entry level simulations, each showing a particular leadership ability. Flores could see the large strategic picture and so her training was designed to give her experience commanding a large group of ground units. Rico, on the other hand, had a gift for viewing the immediate tactical picture, and his training was designed around the leadership of a small squad of troopers.

By the time the _Halsey_ returned to her home universe, those three would be ready to go home, to resume their fight against the Arachnids. Marius was planning on sending them home in a _Defiant_ escort.

"Mr. Jameson. System status?"

"All systems show green across the board. We are ready to proceed sir."

"Very well, Commander. You have the conn. Take us back into the breach."

"Aye sir."

"Sensors. I want a detailed scan the moment we emerge into the clear."

"Sensor station, aye sir!"

"Weps. As soon as we make transition, I want full shields, and all weapons to yellow alert."

"Weapons station, aye sir!"

"Flight ops. Once we're in the clear, I want two squadrons on CAP, and two more on long range patrol. Launch the _Brazos_ and the _Salado_ for long range sensor duties."

"Flight operations, aye-aye sir!"

"Jump. Now!"

It was a transition that never ceased to amaze him. The movement without the sense of moving, from total white nothingness, to stars that reminded him of home. As per Commander Jameson's orders, Marius saw the sensor officer bring full power to the sensors at his disposal. Weapons were brought on-line and into stand-by mode. Shields went to full power. And on the flight deck, two squadrons of _Thunderbolt_s launched quickly for the CAP, with a second pair of _Thunderbolt_ squadrons launching soon thereafter. Colonel Starbuck made a request of the bridge to launch one _Peregrine_ on a training sortie, and Commander Jameson granted the request. Marius knew full well that Ibañez was about to earn her command wings.

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_**Long range patrol squadron Red-Alpha**_

The patrol had passed into a new planetary system. There were some minor indications of life, but it was not humanoid life. They were at the extreme edge of their range, and preparing to turn around, when one member of the patrol picked up something.

"Red leader, Red-seven. I'm picking up weapons fire on long range scans. Intense weapons fire."

"Distance to target?"

"Approximately eight light-seconds."

"Roger that. Can you pick up anything else?"

"Starting to pick up life signs now sir. They are the extreme limit of sensor range. Showing multiple vessels. Some with human life signs, others with non-human life signs."

"Roger that. Break. Red-Alpha leader to Red-Beta leader, how copy, over?."

"Read you two-by, Red-Alpha. What have you got?"

"Looks like a furball in progress. Am vectoring to investigate. Sending you our coordinates."

"Roger. I have them here. You're too far out of our range for an assist. We are headed back to the barn to refuel. We'll join you as soon as we can."

"Roger that, Red-Beta. Break. _Halsey_ control, Red-Alpha Leader."

"_Halsey_ control here. We read you loud and clear Red-Alpha. Report please."

"_Halsey_ control, we're picking up life signs, human and non-human, and what looks to be a lot of weapons fire, approximately eight light seconds from our position."

"Roger that. Stand by."

"Admiral? Any advice?"

"Send them in. And back them up."

"Ah, Red-Alpha leader. You are cleared to investigate. Return fire only if fired upon. _Halsey_ moving to back you up. Activate your beacon so we can home in on your signal."

"Roger that, _Halsey_ control. Moving to intercept and investigate."

"_Peregrine_ training flight, _Halsey_ control."

"We read you _Halsey_ control."

"Say state."

"Full load, weps and fuel. Training crew plus instructor aboard."

"Affirmative. Proceed at once to location given by Red-Alpha Leader to render assistance. Contact Red-Alpha leader on frequency six."

"Confirmed. _Peregrine_ moving out."

Red-Alpha patrol wasn't all that far away from the _Halsey_. She could make the distance traverse in five minutes. But she had to pull the CAP fighters in first. In the time it took the _Halsey_ to do that, the _Peregrine_ could be on station assisting the fighters. And even a little bit of additional firepower could signify the difference between victory and defeat.

Nine _Thunderbolt_s screamed into the area occupied by one ISS APC and the 58th and 59th fighter squadrons. Three members of the 58th Wildcards were aboard the ISS APC, two as pilots and one as a gunner, trying to fight off the Chig fighters that had appeared from nowhere. Within the APC were the survivors of the Tellus and Vesta colonies, the first two colonies that Earth had attempted, and the first two locations where the Chigs had attacked.

There was a Chig representative on the _Saratoga_ at the moment, trying to negotiate peace with the Earth representative, but a deadlock in the negotiations caused the Chig fighters to attack now. The fighters of the 59th were giving a good accounting of themselves, guiding the second ISS APC back to the _Saratoga_, but the 58th was having problems. The Chigs seemed to know that there were family members aboard the APC, that the Wildcards guarded so fiercely. Perhaps it was good to attack their family, and perhaps it was bad. To the Chigs, all it meant was the possible elimination of a fighter squadron that had vexed them at almost every turn.

They were the squadron that held the line at the Battle of the Belt, buying time for the fleet to arrive. They were the squadron that had defeated their best fighter pilots. They were the squadron that should have died long ago, but continued to fly and fight against odds that would have made even themselves run in fear. But Chigs understood no fear other than what the Wildcards had caused them to fear.

"Vansen! What the hell are those!"

"I have no clue. I hope they're on our side, though."

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"Seven to leader. That big boxcar with retro-rockets. I read numerous human life signs aboard. Looks like those elongated triangular shaped craft are making strafing runs at it. The other fighters read as human pilots. Looks like they're trying to defend the boxcar."

"I see it, Red-Seven. Red-Five! Check six!"

The Chig fighters had already discovered that the new fighters had humans aboard. They simply reasoned that these were a new class of human fighter craft. One of their fighters turned hard onto the tail of the new fighter and fired at it repeatedly, striking only the shield bubble and making it glow briefly.

"Lead, I'm taking fire. Request permission to give as good as I'm taking!"

"Granted. Red-Alpha flight, let's take'em out!"

The _Thunderbolt_s moved in to the fight, firing phased plasma spears at the enemy, breaking them apart on the first pass and making the enemy regroup. Pairs of _Thunderbolt_s moved off, double teaming the enemy fighters, for which they had no name. But there were so many of them, that without additional help from the _Halsey_, they thought they would be sorely pressed to fight it out, until, and much to their amazement, they saw that the enemy fighters had no shields. But they did have some sort of ablative armor that took repeated hits before they fell. It wouldn't be until after the fight that someone would realize their weapons had been set at training levels for the practice that Red-Alpha leader had wanted the squadron to get in on the way home.

In the midst of the battle, the _Peregrine_ arrived. Colonel Starbuck saw the tactical situation at once. The _Thunderbolt_s were dealing with the enemy fighters, but some of the enemy were still making strafing runs at the large box thing with rockets. To him, it looked like a fourth millennium cargo freighter, something the Colonies hadn't flown in at least six thousand yahrens. What better test of their mettle, he thought, than an actual battle? He let Pilot Commander Ibañez continue in command. Her reaction was both gratefulness for retaining command and swiftness into the fight.

"Shields to full. Weapons, target the enemy fighters harassing the cargo pod. I want them out of my sky!"

"Aye ma'am!"

Transporter officer, standby to pick up survivors. Medic, stand by to receive wounded."

"Aye ma'am!"

"Yes ma'am!"

While the _Peregrine_ was a tried and true design, her crew was not. They had been together for about a month, going through various aspects of the flight training program. As a _Peregrine_ crew, they'd been together less than four days. Ibañez sat at the pilot's station. Gone were the touch screens that the Starfleeters liked so much. They had been replaced by a throttle control and flight stick. She sat on a raised dais in the center of the small command deck of the _Peregrine_. Below and to her right, was the co-pilot's station, who could take over for her in the event she was incapacitated, but normally served the crew as the navigation officer. Below and to her left was one of the gunners, manning the forward looking Type VIII phasers, and the forward peripheral phaser strips, the former for tackling other fighters, the latter for defending themselves against incoming missiles or torpedoes.

Below and immediately behind her were engineering and life support stations. Behind her and to either side, were two additional gunnery stations. Either side controlled their respective Type VI phaser turret, and the strip phasers available to them. A final crew trainee sat in the last gunnery station and controlled an aft facing turret that had both a Type VIII phaser and a pair of heavy duty rail guns on either side of the turret, but which turned with the turret. Colonel Starbuck was nominally along as their instructor, but they needed no instruction. One by one, the enemy fighters fell beneath the fiery onslaught of the heavy caliber phaser fire. Though it was not the type of phasers found on a capital ship, they still stung anything they touched.

It felt like an eternity to those in combat, but before long, the enemy had been obliterated, and the remaining human fighters had stopped where they were, taking up defensive positions around their cargo vessel.

"This is Captain Shane Vansen to unidentified fighters. Identify and state your intentions."

"Captain Vansen. I am Lieutenant Mortimer of the AIS _Halsey_. We mean you no harm. If you have wounded, our carrier will be here momentarily."

"We do have wounded aboard. Our ship is shot to all to hell and we might have problems landing on your carrier, but the offer is appreciated."

"Roger that. Stand by. Break. _Halsey_ control?"

"We read you loud and clear, Captain Vansen, you should see us on your scanners any second now."

"'Phousse? You see anything...uhm, what the hell?"

What the hell indeed. The _Halsey_ had appeared in a burst of star light, and had begun launching waves of fighters. Said fighters were now taking up station keeping around the _Halsey_.

"Captain Vansen. _Halsey_ here. Do you require assistance?"

"We have wounded aboard. Can you bring us aboard?"

"Aye, we can do that. Stop your engines. The _Peregrine_ will take you under tow and bring you aboard. Medics will be standing by on the hangar deck."

"What about our fighter escort?"

"They're welcome to come aboard as well. We can ferry you to your final destination."

"Thanks for the assist _Halsey_. Vansen out."

"What do you suppose they meant by a tow, Shane?"

"I expect we're about to find out."

The _Peregrine_ had maneuvered itself to a position just forward of the ISS APC. An instant after they were in position, a light beam of sorts sprang out from behind the _Peregrine_ and grappled the APC, taking it under tow. The two remaining fighters of the 58th followed the ISS APC into the _Halsey_, setting down on the deck near it, but following the hand signals of the deck crews. Their cockpits came up almost in synch with one another, and they pulled their helmets off almost as one. West and Hawkes dropped to the solid ground beneath their feet and raced over to the side door of the APC. They could see white-shirted medics running up to the APC as well, some with some kind of floating gurneys, others with packs of medical gear.

The door opened, and Wang called for medics as soon as it was fully open. The wounded were mostly ambulatory, but some did require the floaters. Wang, the gunner, had numerous cuts and scrapes on his person from being tossed about the confines of the gunner's station. The two fighters were alright, as were the two pilots of the cargo vehicle, but they were the only ones. Irregardless of their physical condition or their protests to the truth thereof, they were brought to the nearest aid station to the hangar decks. The passengers of the cargo vehicle all looked malnourished and some appeared to have suffered the ill effects of interrogation, but that was the opinion of Colonel O'Neill, who happened to the be in his office above the hangar decks when the call with wounded came in. Commander Jameson had already passed along details to him, regarding the fight and the news that this was a first contact situation. He was waiting for Mulder and Daniel to join him before he made the intros, but the looks of those armed pilots made him want to rush in there before things got out of hand.

The pilots in question, with Vansen at the lead, were watching over one of their own get treated by a medic. West, another pilot, was standing by a woman on a floating gurney as she was led to a healing station, where a Tok'ra with a healing device stood by waiting to assist. Fortunately, none of the wounded aboard the cargo vessel were in need of a sarcophagus, but that was a good thing, right? Some good food, and plenty of rest, and these good folks would be on their way to wherever home is. The pilots, on the other hand, were getting antsy. He could see it in their eyes. They wanted out of the aid station.

"Major Scully? Everything alright here?"

"Colonel. Yes. Everything will be find as soon as these pilots agree to routine scans. We don't want them contaminating our own crews."

"No, we certainly don't want that. You see folks, it's like this. We don't know where you're from, and you don't know where we're from. We could have some disease your unfamiliar with and vice-versa. It's just a routine precaution. It won't hurt. I promise."

"And who the hell are you?"

"At ease Captain. I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill, wing commander for the AIS _Halsey_."

"Sir!"

"As you were. Now, just let the Doc look you over. Then I'll take you to the bar and the first round will be on me."

"Ok. I can live with that."

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_**Ten minutes later**_

_**Officer's Mess**_

"And this is the Officer's Mess. Like I said earlier, I'm buying the first round. Now, how 'bout we get acquainted?"

"You wouldn't happen to play guitar too, would you Colonel?"

"Me? Play the guitar? Nope. Why do you ask?"

"Cause you remind us of someone we know."

"Must be a nice guy then."

"He is. I am Shane Vansen, Captain, USMC, 58th fighter squadron, assigned to the USS _Saratoga_."

"Nathan West, Lieutenant, USMC, 58th fighter squadron."

"Cooper Hawkes, Lieutenant, USMC, 58th."

"Vanessa Damphousse, Lieutenant, USMC, 58th."

"The other member of your squadron is still in sick bay, yes?"

"That would be Paul Wang, also a Lieutenant, and also a member of the 58th Wildcards."

"And you're all Jarheads, right?"

"Yes. And you're a Swabbie?"

"Hell no. Air Force. Though I regret to say I do have some good friends in the Corps."

"Oh great! A real honest to God fly-boy!"

"That's fly-boy, sir!"

"This is good beer sir!"

"Admiral's on deck!"

"As you were. Looks like you're making some new friends, Jack. Care to do the introductions?"

"Yeahsureyoubetcha. Captain Shane Vansen, Lieutenants Nathan West, Cooper Hawkes and Vanessa Damphousse. This is Admiral Marco Ramos, task force commander, and Captain of the _Halsey_."

"Pleasure to meet you all. Tell me about yourselves and your enemy?"

"Sir, I really need to check in with our carrier. We're overdue as it is."

"Of course, this way please."

Marius led them forward of the mess deck and up eight decks to the Combat Information Center beneath the Bridge. A communications officer was standing by to transmit a signal to their carrier. All they needed was the appropriate frequency.

"Captain Vansen, just tell the communications chief the frequency so we can raise your carrier."

She preferred to dial it in herself and after a few seconds instruction, she keyed in the correct frequency.

"_Saratoga_, _Saratoga_, Queen Six, how copy, over?"

"Queen Six, we read you five by five. Status of mission?"

"All POWs accounted for and undergoing treatment."

With Vansen talking, Marco motioned to the Chief of the watch to home in on the signal. He plotted the position of the ship she was communicating with at approximately twenty-three light minutes out from their current location. The location was passed to navigation which quickly plotted a course to intercept, awaiting the watch officer's word to move. The Sensor officer launched a cloaked probe to the target area, with results coming back fairly quickly. The initial scans showed several vessels, moving slowly through space, headed for the planetary system where the _Halsey_ was currently located. Scans of the large vessel indicated it was just under two thousand feet in length and fairly well armed. But scans did not reveal the presence of any sort of shielding technology, or any sort of anti-matter, naquadah, or tylium based engine systems. It did, however, detect fusion power plants and a wormhole generator.

"...Affirmative _Saratoga_. We seem to have made some new friends here. Sir, I'm not familiar with First Contact protocols. I think it best that you come here sir. Ahh, one moment sir."

"Captain Vansen, we have a lock on the position of your fleet. We can be there shortly. Please ask your Fleet Commander not to fire on us."

"Commodore, our new friends here claim they have a lock on your position. They can be there in a few minutes. They ask the fleet not to fire on them when they appear."

"That is doable. We await your arrival, Queen Six."

"Affirmative, Queen Six out."

"Well, Admiral. The ball is in your court now."

"Good. Let's move this up to the Bridge."

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"Admiral's on deck!"

"As you were. What's our status, Commander Jameson?"

"All boards show green sir. The ship is ready in all respects. All fighters accounted for, and all escorts docked and locked."

"Very well. I have the Conn. Navigator, is your course locked in?"

"Course locked in sir."

"Very well. Proceed."

was a short jump. The hyperspace jump engines opened a portal into hyperspace, and the ship zoomed into it. It was a little different here than it had been in the Babylon 5 universe. Instead of mostly red with traces of black, it was mostly black with traces of red and orange. The swirl patterns were captivating and mesmerizing.

"Sir, some sort of anomaly forming five hundred thousand kilometers off the starboard bow!"

"What sort of anomaly? Put it up on the screen!"

"There sir!"

What the bridge crew of the _Saratoga_ were witnessing was the vortex of a vessel exiting hyperspace. It was a blue vortex, streaked with black and white and it seemed to form a cone facing inward to something they couldn't read. But from within the vortex a number of ships emerged. The first scans of the largest ship indicated it was at least three miles in length, dwarfing and relegating the _Saratoga_ to the status of bathtub toy. The _Saratoga_, a _John F. Kennedy_-class carrier was the largest class of vessel the United Nations Space Forces had in space. That another race had constructed something that large spoke volumes of the technological and scientific advancements of that race. The vessel was now turning toward the fleet, and smaller ships were separating from the larger vessel.

"_Saratoga_, we presume?"

"Affirmative. And you are?"

"Alliance Strike Carrier _Halsey_, at your service. Request permission to come along side to transfer your wayward fighters and cargo vessel."

"Affirmative. You are cleared to approach to within eight thousand meters."

"Well Commodore Ross, looks like there's another player in the galactic playground. Any idea who they are?"

"Mr. Wayne, I fully realize that Aerotech has its claws in everything, but the meeting with the enemy representative should have taught you at least something!"

"And what would that be?"

"Be careful what you wish for, Mr. Wayne. Life has a funny way of making it come true."

The ISS APC and its fighter escort had left the _Halsey_ and already docked with the _Saratoga_, considering the two ships were so close to one another. The _Saratoga_ had one fighter squadron in the air as a fleet CAP. The _Halsey_ launched two squadrons of _Thunderbolt_s to supplement that CAP. The fact that her escort cruisers had detached themselves from their mooring stations and were taking up their normal station keeping positions greatly increased the _Halsey_'s scanning range. The show of force wasn't lost on those inside the _Saratoga_, especially to the Aerotech representative.

"Captain Vansen. Report!"

"Sir! Their medics tended to the wounded, and their fighters made short work of the two squadrons of Chig fighters that jumped us."

"Are they willing to meet in person?"

"They are sir. They asked me to contact them when I'm in a conference room, though I'm not entirely sure why."

"Let's go to the main conference room then, and contact them."

----------------------------------------

"_Halsey_. Captain Vansen here. I'm in the conference room now."

"Excellent. Hold the channel open on your end so we can narrow the coordinates to a small enough field. We'll be sending over our First Contact team and a small contingent of escorts. Is that agreeable?"

"It is. We'll prep the launch deck to receive your ship."

"Unnecessary. Our team is transporting over now."

Vansen looked at Commodore Ross for a brief instant wondering what the speaker on the _Halsey_ meant when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She turned in time to see soldiers appear out of thin air, deposited upright on the deck by a flash of brilliant white light.

"Well, you folks sure know how to make an entrance! I'm Commodore Glenn van Ross. I believe you've already met Captain Vansen."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Major Fox Mulder, Chief of Alliance Diplomatic Services aboard the _Halsey_. My colleagues, Dr. Daniel Jackson, and Dr. Dana Scully. Our escort team is headed by Captain Alex Phillipson."

"Welcome, all of you. May I ask what that was that brought you here?"

It was a standard meet and greet and it would go according to some unwritten plan. And while the _Halsey_ team was meeting with the commanding officer of the _Saratoga_, a second meeting was preparing to begin. In truth, however, it was the third meeting in this place that would concern historic promises and such. But the second meeting was something of a mystery.

----------------------------------------

_**Aerotech Board of Directors**_

"Is the communications link with our agent aboard the _Saratoga_ ready in all respects?"

"It is. The link is triple encrypted and completely secure. The light-cubed gear is fully operational, and the link is now active."

"Mr. Wayne. Please explain your actions during the meeting with the alien representative."

"I revealed nothing, sir. The Chig made the usual accusations, but I revealed nothing. The mission to recover the survivors of Tellus and Vesta almost went according to plan."

"Explain."

"We anticipated the Chig response. We anticipated that they would attack the returning transports. We expected the 58th would be assigned to the escort mission. That much went according to plan. The 58th were assigned and the Chig did indeed attack the returning transports. At this point, however, what we hoped for and what actually happened went their separate ways. We had hoped that the 58th and the returning transports would be destroyed. However, a heretofore unknown race intervened."

"Do we know anything about them?"

"Here's the real kicker, sir. They are human. If I didn't know any better sir, I'd say that they are from Earth. I have some images that I'm transmitting on a sub-channel. Their main vessel is what they call a strike carrier and as you can see, it is several times the length of the _Saratoga_. Shortly after they arrived they deployed eight of what I am told they call battlecruisers, which as you can see in the third image are capable of launching fighters. In the fourth image you will see them deploying fighters of a type I am unfamiliar with. It is not a design I have ever seen anywhere on Earth. But it is the next image, number five, that should concern us the most. It was actually the first image taken. It shows the alien fleet emerging from an energy vortex. The limited sensor scans available to me aboard the _Saratoga_ indicate the vortex was actually an opening into an unknown dimension of space. From what I have been able to determine, based on interviews with the pilots of the 58th, these other 'Humans', they call themselves Tow Ree or something that sounds like that. Regardless of what they call themselves, the pilots told me these people have at least four or five different methods of achieving Faster-Than-Light travel. They also have at least three methods of point to point teleportation, and one incredible method of inter-planetary travel at the individual level."

"Incredible! What is happening there now?"

"Commodore Ross is holding an initial round of meetings with them. I was unable to place any listening devices within the room due to the short notice in arrival time. With a bit more warning, I can bug any room they decide to use in the future. I will know more after Ross concludes the initial meeting."

"Excellent. Contact us at that time. In the meantime, we will prepare a team of first contact specialists to assist you. It may be that we will be able to 'negotiate' for their advanced technologies, but only if you are unable to obtain their secrets by the usual methods."

"Of course sir. _Saratoga_ out."

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_**Aerotech Board Room**_

"So, it would seem there is a new player in the galactic playground."

"Do you have any information on them?"

"Not at the moment. The ship designs are not familiar to us."

"Will they pose a threat to the Project?"

"That remains to be seen Madame Secretary."

----------------------------------------

_**Elsewhere...**_

"Tok'Ra. I wondered when you would come to call."

"I trust all is well with you young one?"

"Only an Ancient could get away with calling me, Amanda, a member of the Q Continuum, 'young one'. I expected you eventually. Q tells me you and your offspring performed quite well with the Starfleeters. I fully expected them to welcome you with open arms. I knew Picard, in another incarnation of my life. I thought he would be more trusting, truthfully."

"People change, young one. If you knew Picard, then how could you be here?"

"My parents were members of the Continuum. They chose to disregard our policies and took human form. While in that form, they conceived me. It was not until I was in my early twenties that my abilities began to emerge. At that time, the Continuum became aware of me. Q came to me and offered the opportunity of a lifetime. And so I joined him. Eventually, he sent me back in time and to this universe, to watch over the Humans of this place. I have found them to be refreshing. They are something of a conundrum to me. My only experience with Humans was the ones I grew up with. These have faced just as much adversity as the history I am more familiar with. But where Federation Earth had its Eugenics wars and a Third World War, this Earth had an AI war and now a war in interstellar space. It took my Earth over a century to recover from a nuclear war, and I am grateful that the humans I watch over have not taken that drastic step."

"You are wise beyond your years, Amanda. The task which you set out for us, it is complete?"

"It is and it is not. There are plots within plots at play here. By accomplishing what I asked of you, a new path has been opened. One that I did not expect. I am not familiar with your Earth or with any of the wars you have fought. But here, there is apparently a conspiracy of humans attempting to conceal the truth. I have also detected some manipulation of the timeline here, though it is difficult to trace. I have some evidence of a dimensional incursion, but I have no idea who or what caused it."

"Perhaps if I encourage my 'offspring' to enter into formal negotiations with these Humans you watch over, something will fall out into the open. You and I must watch over our charges, to see to it that nothing amiss occurs, yes?"

"Yes."

"They are meeting now. Shall we join them?"

"Yes. But we cannot allow ourselves to be seen. Not until we determine whether the dimensional incursion is related to this conspiracy."

"If it is a conspiracy to conceal the truth, then it will take a Fox to ferret out the culprits."

"A cryptic answer. Should I now say, 'the game is afoot?'"

_----------------------------------------_

_**Saratoga**_

"The device we used is called a transporter beam. It was a gift from one of our allies, the Asgard. Our Alliance is made up of several member worlds and it was born out of a need for mutual defense. We face an enemy at home intent on one of two possible outcomes; enslavement or barring that, annihilation. But we are far from home, and we are attempting to return to our home system. One of our long range patrols detected weapons fire and the order was given to investigate. And now we are here, seated opposite you."

"My only regret is that my wing commander could not be here for this historic occasion. He was wounded in the explosion aboard ship some days ago. We had a peace envoy from the Chig government aboard and we were attempting to negotiate a settlement, but it was a trap. The envoy was wearing some sort of explosive device and Colonel McQueen was seriously wounded in the blast. I regret that our doctors can do nothing for him."

"We can. We have the technology to completely heal him, if you would allow this."

"You would do this?"

"We would. As a sign of good faith."

"I will have him brought here. Excuse me a moment."

----------------------------------------

"Mulder to _Halsey_."

"Go ahead, Major."

"We've offered medical assistance to one of their officers who was severely wounded in a recent accident. Scully will be taking care of him, however I suspect he may need the use of a sarcophagus."

"Understood Mulder. We'll stand by on the transporters."

----------------------------------------

_**Corridor outside Saratoga Medical**_

"Commodore! I understand our guests have come aboard?"

"They are in meeting room five."

"Good! I'd love to meet them, if you could arrange an introduction?"

"I guess that would be alright. They've offered to heal McQueen. I'm here to get him up there."

"Let me help you with the gurney, Commodore."

----------------------------------------

"Doctor Scully. Here is your new patient, Lieutenant Colonel TC McQueen."

"Allow me to examine him?"

"Of course."

"Scully to _Halsey_, please route me through to the infirmary."

"Medical. D'Fir here."

"D'Fir, I have a patient here that requires your special attentions. He is suffering from several broken bones, and smoke and heat damaged lungs. He has burns on approximately eight percent of his body. Severe third degree burns. Instead of beaming him there, I wish you to beam over with a healing device and with a standard medical kit."

"Of course. I will collect my kit and beam over shortly."

----------------------------------------

"Major Mulder, if I may present Mr. Allan Wayne? He is our Aerotech representative. Aerotech is the company responsible for producing the fighters and ships of our fleet, along with the colonization of our few colonies."

"Pleasure to meet you, Major Mulder. On behalf of Aerotech, I am fully authorized to begin negotiations with your fleet, that is, if there is anything that you require?"

"Actually yes, though I am uncertain how well you can handle this particular item. The majority of our technology is based on a naturally occurring mineral that we call tylium. Our supplies of raw tylium are running low and we have been unable to secure a source of this material. This is the chemical structure of the mineral in question. If you have access to this, we are perfectly willing to pay for a substantial amount of it."

Mulder knew that their stocks of tylium and its refined form, solium, were plentiful. This was a test of sorts, to see what a 'company' representative would make of the request. From the moment this Allan Wayne walked in with the Commodore, Wayne had looked upon the members of his team like a kid drooling over candy in a sweets factory. He could see the unbridled lust in his eyes. Lust for new technologies. In a great number of ways, this Allan Wayne reminded Mulder of Spender. The hair on the back of his neck was at full attention. Something was definitely off in regards to Mr. Wayne.

"I'll transmit this message to our R&D department back home. To be honest, I'm not much of a chemist, so I'm afraid I don't recognize what this tylium might be called here. But I'm sure they will and come up with a location or a decent substitute."

"My thanks to you, Mr. Wayne."

As Mulder thanked Wayne, there was a flash of brilliant white light, and D'Fir appeared. She immediately moved over to stand by Dana, who was examining her patient with a medical tricorder, a device whose technology had been given to them by the Federation. D'Fir pulled out the healing device and slipped it on over her hand. A few seconds later, the device began to emit a soft warm glow, and D'Fir ran the device slowly up and down over the patient's body. Dana, meanwhile, was using a bone knitter to mend the broken bones in McQueen's legs and chest, before switching to the dermal regenerator to repair the burned skin on the patient's body. There was a significant amount of damage to repair, and so it took some moments to fix a great deal of the damage. McQueen would need a few more treatments with the healing device to completely repair the damaged lung tissue, and a few more sessions with the dermal regenerator to heal the remaining burn scars, but it was a good first step, as there was only so much stress that Dana and D'Fir wished to impart onto the patient.

Off to one side, Ross and Wayne stood in something close to sheer awe as the heavier burn damaged skin began to disappear only to be replaced by slightly scarred skin. With the explanation of more treatments yet to be completed, both of the men were left to wonder at the sheer technological prowess exhibited by these people. The Commodore thought of all the good that could come from such devices; too many soldiers he knew were back home, having been horribly disfigured as a result of this war. Wayne, on the other hand, saw that a much different application was possible. Aerotech operatives in the field could interrogate someone as brutally as was necessary to get the needed result, and then restore them to full health. It would allow them to send a most unique message to all those who opposed them; the prisoner talked and they weren't even tortured!

"Commodore, with your permission, we would like to transport Colonel McQueen back to our vessel to continue his treatments. If you wish, you may join him at this time and I will arrange a short introductory meeting with our Admiral and if you like, a tour of our ship?"

"I think I would like that a lot."

"Major Mulder? May I also see your ship?"

"I don't see that as a problem, Mr. Wayne. Of course."

"Mulder to _Halsey_."

"_Halsey_."

"We are ready to transport back. We will be joined by Commodore Ross, a medical patient, and an aide to the Commodore."

"Adjusting transporters to compensate for additional mass. Ready."

It was a unique sensation for Wayne, this transporter beam. One instant he was standing in the conference room and the next he was on a completely different ship. In many respects this vessel _Halsey_ was similar on the inside to the _Saratoga_. The walls were made of metal. Ok, so it was the only thing he could think of, but it was at least one thing. He wondered at the possibilities of being the Aerotech man to bring home the secrets of all this new technology. A spot on the Board was within his grasp, possibly even a directorship! It was certainly an area in which he excelled, that of manipulating others to do his bidding. He wondered if these Tau'ri were familiar with Earth confidence games. Perhaps they had their own version of these games, perhaps not. But it would be worth the effort to try.

Scully and D'Fir took their patient down to the infirmary where he was placed into a sarcophagus for quicker healing. Scully was perplexed, as was D'Fir, for the moment, by the 'nipple' on the back of McQueen's neck. Scully wondered if it was something that was unique to McQueen alone, or if it was something peculiar to this particular version of humanity. But was it a mystery worth exploring? Never let it be said that Scully didn't like mysteries.

Mulder had a problem. His guts were telling him that Wayne was not to be trusted. It wasn't something he could pinpoint, at least not yet. He needed to study the man and the people who knew him best. That would mean interviews with the Commodore, his aides, and perhaps the members of the 58th Wildcards that they'd rescued earlier? But he did not want to come across as pressing them for information. Something more informal perhaps?

----------------------------------------

_**Next Evening**_

Mulder had played a card in this new game. He had convinced Admiral Ramos that the best way to get to know these new Earth humans was to throw a little party. To get them at ease and to ply them with alcohol so that they would interact more freely. He doubted that any of them had ever tried Romulan Ale, Centauri Brevari, or Colonial Ambrosia. By inviting the members of the _Halsey_ patrol and the crew of the _Peregrine_ to the gathering, perhaps he could obtain information by means other than his own conversations. The party would be held in one of the auxiliary mess halls, and hours before it began, he was in the room with a team from security, planting microscopic microphones and video cameras around the room so as to pick up everything possible.

"Distinguished guests from the _Saratoga_. On behalf of the Alliance of Independent Systems, I bid you welcome to the AIS _Admiral_ _Halsey_. We wanted to show you our hospitality and the endless advantages of our technology. All of the food and drinks you will be served are created through our replicator technology. The system is easy to use and so long as the pattern for the food or drink is already programmed into the system, we can create almost anything you could ask for. Allow me to demonstrate. Computer, one mug, slightly chilled, Ramos Mint Brew."

The replicator complied with the request, and a cool frosty mug of the Admiral's favorite brew, one of his own recipes, appeared on the pad.

"Commodore? Anything in particular you like?"

"I'd like a good Whiskey."

"Then you'll enjoy this. Computer, one bottle, liter size, fifty year old Laphroaig. Commodore, this particular brand was introduced to me by a good friend; my Executive Officer. I think you'll find it may become a favorite of yours as well."

On the replicator pad, a bottle of fifty year old whiskey had appeared, along with four small glasses. The Admiral poured one for the Commodore and one for himself. The look on the Commodore's face told it all.

"Admiral, I've had my fair share of whiskey's, both good and bad, but this is quite exceptional. A shame we don't have this one back home. Perhaps I could talk you into giving me a few thousand cases?"

"I think something could be arranged."

Wayne was taking all of this in with not even a stumble in his step. Aerotech was a major Earth corporation that had been in contact with other alien species for well over one hundred years. But the contacts were kept extreme corporate secrets. From the New Mexico Grays, to the Chigs on Tellus and Vesta, to the Sibonites of Regula Three, they'd negotiated for advances and released them slowly over time into the market place on Earth. It had kept them at the top of the pack, among the other mega corporations. The replicator tech was similar to something the Sibonites used, though the Tau'rian Replicator seemed more refined. These Tau'ri were certainly more advanced than his Earth, but they also were the most similar species to his own kind that he'd ever run across. Though all of the species that his Earth had run across, publicly and secretly, were bi-pedal, none were as closely related in appearance as these Tau'ri. In fact, the resemblance was most uncanny.

"You attention please. I had promised myself that this affair would have a minimum of interruptions, but this might be something of interest to our guests. Approximately forty-two months ago ship's time, our strike fleet was involved in a war against a very powerful enemy. We had allies who were equally powerful. The images you will see were taken and compiled from the various gun cameras and sensor recordings of the battle at System J25. This little film will showcase our technologies and allow you a glimpse of the type beings we Tau'ri are."

For the personnel of the _Saratoga_, seeing such a large fleet attacking a few dozen vessels was something of a shocker. But seeing those few dozen geometric vessels wipe the floor with the larger fleet was completely unexpected. The strange blue vortices were very much in evidence but here they were used as weapons. Ships poured out of them in some spots as the geometric ships were torn apart by the intense energies at play within the energy vortices. It was a dance of laser light and energy torpedo writ large against the backdrop of a planetary system. Though it was a beautiful thing to see, in these intricate dances of fighter and capital ship, the fighter pilots in the room recognized the desperation in the moves of the allied pilots and the pain in the faces of those who were there and who survived to fight another day.

For the pilots who had survived the battle at J25, seeing the moves made by comrades brought back many memories. For Ibañez, who had not been with the _Halsey_ at the time of that battle, and who had missed out on the entire Borg war, the sight of her instructor pilots flying and fighting brought to the fore all of the lessons they were trying to impart on to her. Colonel Starbuck had told her of the effectiveness of the Cylon pinwheel attack and the devastation it could wring on an unsuspecting enemy. In the holographic imagery before her, she saw entire squadrons of _Mustang_ fighters fly into pinwheels to attack what she knew were Borg troop ships and interceptors. She also knew that the Tau'ri no longer flew the F-302 interceptors. They had abandoned that design in the favor of what had now been designated the A-310 _Thunderbolt_.

Here and there around the room, fighter pilots gravitated towards fighter pilots and fleet officers felt the pull of other fleet officers. It seemed that though their uniforms were different, a pilot could recognize another pilot and a Marine could easily tell another Marine, even if the planets of origin were different. The only time that had not been true, in the travels of the _Halsey_, had been when the Tau'ri Marines had met the Starfleet Marines. Those Marines had been so in name only, and had been treated as little less than common soldiers by the Tau'ri Marines aboard the _Halsey_.

"So, Mr. Wayne, what do you think of our hospitality?"

"I find it quite refreshing, Major Mulder."

"How so?"

"You have to understand where we are coming from, sir. Our first chance to make first contact went drastically wrong. Now we're in a war for our very survival. Certainly our record for making friends out here in space is not the best."

"So you're oh-for-one in the first contact column, or at least you were before you met us. Now you're one-and-one on the column, and it looks like your luck as a species is improving."

"I for one, want to see us come out on top in this war. Your ships obviously have some weaponry that would make a big difference in our war. But what could we have that would interest your forces?"

"Oh I think we could find something that would interest us. And I'm sure we could make the exchange worthwhile to your forces. But I'm curious in one aspect, Mr. Wayne."

"Curious about what, Major?"

"The Commodore described you as a company representative. I wonder if I should be discussing this exchange with your government or with you? Certainly, both have a vested interest in the negotiations, but as a corporation, you stand to benefit the most by this exchange, yes?"

"That would be true under normal circumstances, Major, but we're in this war for the species, sir, and we have no other options. That I happened to be on the _Saratoga_ when contact was first made with your forces, was sheer coincidence. I was on the ship leading a contingent of engineers as they interviewed the pilots of the Hammerhead squadrons. There have been many requests for minor modifications forwarded to us by the military. Some were very minor indeed and some would have meant a complete revision of sensor suites or armament panels and so the engineers were there to talk things out to see if changes were warranted or not."

"I see. Uhm, if I might make a request?"

"Of course, Major. Please do."

"In order to determine if your Hammerhead fighters might be of use to our own forces, we wondered if perhaps some of our more experienced pilots might borrow a few for a few days, to test them in dissimilar combat against our own fighters."

"I think that could be arranged."

----------------------------------------

"Well Commodore, what do you think of that whiskey?"

"It's a mighty fine blend, Admiral. Makes me want to pick up my guitar and sing the blues."

"I play a mean fiddle, maybe we could find a bass and jam a little?"

"That might be fun."

----------------------------------------

_**Infirmary**_

"D'Fir, I think we should forego the remainder of the treatments and put McQueen in the sarcophagus."

"I agree Dana. It would certainly repair the damage faster. I'm a bit worried about the 'nipple' that we can't seem to identify though."

"I've told Mulder about it. He said he would find out what that was about."

"Good. I'll have the patient transferred to a sarcophagus for immediate treatment."

"Well done."

----------------------------------------

_**Mess Hall**_

"Captain Vansen?"

"Major Mulder. How might I help you, sir?"

"Doctor Scully down in the infirmary found something on your Colonel McQueen that she can't seem to identify and I wondered if perhaps you could assist us with this small item?"

"If I can sir, though I am no medic."

"Understood. It seems she and her staff found what they are terming a 'nipple' on the back of McQueen's neck. The fact that he also did not have a scar from where a normal umbilical cord would have been on one of us, leads her to believe that the 'nipple' is the remains of an umbilical cord. Is that a fair assessment?"

"It is for a tank, sir."

"Tank? Explain please."

"McQueen is an in-vitro, sir. During the AI war, our losses were so severe that the Earth forces experimented with creating a race strictly for warfare. The In-Vitros are gestated and grown inside of tanks. They are withdrawn from the tanks fully grown and then sent to school where they learn all those trades that normal humans no longer want to do. They were seen as less than human because they weren't 'created' in the normal fashion."

"They're clones?"

"No. Each one is genetically unique. During the AI war, a lot of in-vitros were pressed into military service. Afterwards, instead of coming home to waiting families, they were shipped to off-world mining facilities and press-ganged into slavery. I have an in-vitro for a commanding officer and an in-vitro in my unit. Frankly, I'm ashamed at how we've treated tanks in the past."

"Second class citizens?"

"Less than that even. Even slaves back in the 19th century had more rights than tanks."

"You keep calling them tanks. Why?"

"They were gestated in cylindrical tanks. Their umbilical cord was connected at the back of the neck."

"And they were created as slaves?"

"No. Not slaves. They were created to fight a war, but when the war ended, they were sent to work in the mines."

"Cruel fate."

"Indeed Major Mulder. Did you take part in that campaign?"

"The Borg Campaign? Not as a pilot no, though I did play a role in the capture of one of the Borg Queens. I serve as head of the Diplomatic section. I also served as an interrogator for prisoners."

"Is that because you know how to talk to people?"

"No. I did that because of what I did before I joined the Alliance Military. On my home world, I was an agent in our Bureau of Investigations. A profiler, specifically. My degree in Criminal Psychology prepared me for identifying all things criminal. In that respect, it also helped me to categorize the Borg as a sociopathic species bent on assimilating everything and everyone into their Collective. They couldn't achieve their goal of perfection, so they wanted everyone in the universe to be like them. Can you imagine a fate worse than death, Captain?"

"What can be worse than death?"

"The fate that these Borg had for others in their part of the universe. To be made a part of the Collective and have absolutely no say in what you do, and not have the ability to think for yourself for the rest of your life. We called it a 'Living Death'."

"I can't begin to imagine something like that."

"So, mind if I ask a business question?"

"If you want to buy something, I suggest talking to the Commodore."

"No, nothing like that. Just, well, Mr. Wayne of your Aerotech Industries is of the opinion that the Alliance should be negotiating with him and not with your legitimate government. I'm just trying to figure out why that would be the case?"

"Personally, Major, I wouldn't trust any Aerotech person as far as I could throw the _Saratoga_. I'd say you're better off with the government, but I'd probably be wrong. The current UN Secretary General used to be with Aerotech, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's convenient. Thank you Captain, for the information. It should make our upcoming talks all the more interesting."

Allan Wayne was intently watching the holographic imagery. The battle scenes were intense and he was avidly watching all of the displayed technologies therein. Already he knew he would have a long report to send back after this meeting. Admiral Ramos came up alongside him.

"Mr. Wayne. Everything alright sir?"

"Admiral. Sorry. I'm just amazed at your technology and at that battle your forces fought! Such a diverse fleet you have and so many different types of ships and fighters! Perhaps you could identify a few for me?"

"Of course! Those curved ones are F-302 _Mustang_ fighters. We use them as attack platforms. The long semi-cylindrical ones with the short delta shaped wings are Mk III _Cobra_ interceptors. The X-shaped ones with the negligible nose are also attack fighters. SA-105 _Aurora_ _Starfury_. The ones with the long nose are SA-310 _Thunderbolt_s. Both _Starfury_ types are classified as attack interceptors as they can both carry a decent number of anti-fighter missiles, but the _Thunderbolt_ can also carry anti-ship torpedoes, so it also serves as a bomber platform for us. The large winged fighters are _Peregrine_s. They have up to eight people on the crew deck and we utilize them as command and control units for the fighter squadrons."

"Many thanks Admiral. Perhaps, if you could, might I obtain a copy of this footage with an introductory message giving us the names and classes of the vessels involved? It would help Aerotech decide which technologies are the most pressing for us."

"That can be arranged sir. I'll see to it myself."

"Again, thank you Admiral."

----------------------------------------

_**Some hours later**_

_**VIP Quarters**_

_**Saratoga**_

It had taken him by surprise, the sheer naivety of these other humans. To be so open about sharing their technology! Imagine! But he'd spent the better part of the last four hours now going over the film in detail for his report to the Aerotech Board. And now he was as ready as he could be.

"…connection established. Security protocols engaged…"

"What news Allan?"

"Mr. Director. As I mentioned earlier, I was invited, along with the crew of the _Saratoga_, to go over to the _Halsey_ for a relaxed evening. These Tow-ree humans are a most unique sort of people. They seem to take all of their technology for granted. In just three hours aboard the _Halsey_, I saw more examples of devices that each alone could revolutionize the way we do business on Earth."

"Give us an example, Allan?"

"I'm sending two data streams via sub-channel, sirs. One is my own personal recording of the evening's festivities. The other is a film of a battle these Tow-ree participated in their recent past. They called it the Battle of System J25. My report is attached to the second file. I'd suggest you read it before and after watching the film. You'll understand why when you do that. The most amazing thing I saw earlier, was something the Tow-ree Admiral called a replicator. It had an aural interface. All one has to do is speak to it and ask for anything you desire, and the machine creates it! I tested it myself by asking for a simple chicken salad sandwich, and I have to say, that I've never had a better sandwich!"

"But how does it work?"

"The Admiral explained it simply. The machine has a pattern stored for hundreds of thousands of possible foods and drinks. When an order is given, it accesses those patterns, and replicates the item. The truly wonderful thing is that any type of matter can be fed into the machine. You could feed it ship-board waste, which I'm told they do, and it will produce something useful or edible! The Admiral indicated that the device rearranges matter at the molecular level."

"What else?"

"They use multiple methods for achieving FTL travel. They have at least six different fighter designs, and hundreds of designs for ships. The most amazing thing, however, is that these people gained space travel less than ten years ago!"

"Impossible! How could they have come so far so fast?"

"I'm told they made contact with a friendly species of aliens called Asgard, that have helped them advance to the stars. Another thing I learned is that this fleet fell through what we would call a black hole and ended up in this part of the galaxy, but that at home, they are involved in a war that has been waged for the better part of the last ten thousand years!"

"What sort of warfare?"

"Initially, it was planetary based, but only recently has it moved in to the space arena. The small flotilla of ships here, apparently represents the bulk of their fleet."

"Anxious to get home are they?"

"Very anxious, sirs."

"Did you forward our request for trade negotiations?"

"Yes. But they indicated that they would rather deal with a planetary government, than an individual company."

"Not a problem. Secretary General Hayden is in our pocket, as it were."

"When should I expect the diplomatic team?"

"As our man there, you are authorized on behalf of the UN to commence preliminary talks with them."

"Of course. I will contact you at this time tomorrow with my progress report."

"End transmission."

----------------------------------------

**Halsey**

**Admiral's Quarters**

It had been a long and tiring day for him, but he had much yet to do. It was just that he lacked the proper concentration at the moment. Which was why he had moved his furniture aside to create a clear space in which to meditate. Marius kneeled in the middle of the room, his head held high, and his blade in his hands, the point on the floor. He was aware of every tick of the clock, aware of the distant hum of the engines, aware of the subtle throb of the air circulation systems. The road to this place had been a long one, and it had been paved with the dead bodies of so many. Twenty-six hundred years of life. The endless death was enough to drive one insane, and he guessed that in some small way, all Immortals were insane. It was a wonder that more of them didn't snap under the pressure of so much stress.

The sword was balanced before him, yet it was as if it wasn't there. This meditation technique had been taught to him by Ramirez so many centuries ago. It centered his mind and allowed all of the stress to melt away, at least for the moment. The technique was a close cousin to the Jaffa Kelno'reem meditation, and it had been created to take the person into a deep trance, where all of their mental prowess could be focused on a single task.

Finally, his eyes opened and Marius turned to the task at hand.

"Computer. Access all scans of carrier vessel _Saratoga_ and display."

"Standard image."

"Approximate measurements?"

"Vessel is five hundred and twenty-six meters in length with a beam width of two hundred and forty-five meters. The dorsal tower is sixty-eight meters in height and the ventral structure is forty meters. All measurements rounded to nearest whole unit."

"From the visual scans, estimate the number of launch bays."

"There are twenty-eight hangar bay openings, along either side of the vessel, fourteen per side."

"Souls on board?"

"Scans of biological entities indicates approximately six thousand crew aboard carrier vessel."

"Is enough scan data available to extrapolate interior schematics? Enough to rebuild such a vessel?"

"Negative. There is sufficient scan data available to extrapolate exterior surfaces only."

"Very well. Extrapolate exterior surfaces and save to a file. Given overall exterior dimensions, would there be enough room within the vessel to place standard hyperlaunch drives, jump drives, and warp drives?"

"Affirmative."

"Excellent. Save all data to a file. No further instructions."

Marius had just closed the file when an alert klaxon began to ring. He pressed his comm-link on the back of his right wrist and contacted the bridge. Of all the nice technology they'd obtained in their journeys, he liked these wrist mounted comm-links the best. Even more so than the silly looking insignia badges the UFP wore. Then again, considering that the Alliance personnel wore their insignia on their shoulders, such a comm-badge would look out of place on their uniforms.

"Bridge. Jameson here, Admiral."

"What's going on?"

"Our sensors are reading a dimensional distortion. It's not anywhere nearby."

"Launch probes to investigate. Notify the _Saratoga_ that we've picked up something on our extreme range scanners and are launching probes to clarify the scans. We wouldn't want them shooting down our probes now."

"Affirmative sir. I will inform you when we have more data. Bridge out."

The vessel was small and sleek. Its surface seemed to absorb all light around it, rendering it almost invisible to the unaided eye and to the most intense artificial scanners. There were no discernable engine structures or weapons. And if it hadn't been for the fact that one of the probes launched by the _Halsey_ nearly impacted the small vessel, then it would have gone undiscovered. The probe in question sent a burst transmission back to the _Halsey_ in the instant before it self-destructed, so as not to pose a hazard to space navigation.

The crew of the vessel were not native to this space. They were not native to this universe. Their technology allowed them to breach the barriers between dimensions at will, though for the moment, they could only come to this place. Their scientific prowess told them that for each dimension they wished to enter, they needed a completely different set of equations. Thus far, only the equations for this particular universe had borne fruit. Thus far, only this particular crew had been lucky. The race they represented had lost dozens of other ships and crews with failed equations. But they had persevered, and they had at the very least proven that this type of travel was possible.

The universe they were from had a planet named Earth as well, but it wasn't even remotely of any importance. The planet in their universe was a backwater that had long since been dropped from the list of 'places to visit, things to see' for galactic travel. It was also a planet that was extremely xenophobic, much like this one here. It was something they used to their advantage, to sell them new, well, new for the Earthers and old for them, technologies. Each time they visited this place, the natives left the negotiations table sure that they had pulled the wool over the eyes of these visitors, but in fact it was the other way round.

"Admiral, probe unit Alpha-Six nearly collided with an unidentified vessel, then self-destructed per design."

"Any data on the vessel?"

"Negative sir. Forwarding the best image we have to your system, sir."

"Got it now. Well, now, what do we have here? Jameson? Any other vessels detected yet?"

"Negative sir. Just the one."

"Open a channel to Commodore Ross, if you please, and make sure it's secure."

"Aye sir."

----------------------------------------

"Ross here. Admiral? Do you know what time it is?"

"A little after zero-dark-thirty, Commodore."

"Ah, well. Just so you know."

"Are we secure Jameson?"

"Negative sir. Showing a change in the checksum data stream. Tap is on receiving end, sir."

"What? What are you going on about Admiral? This line is secure!"

"Negative sir. We're showing fault in the checksum data stream that underlies this transmission. Stand by one. Jameson, do you have a lock on the Commodore?"

"Aye sir."

"Beam him to my office, Commander."

"Beam? Wh…"

"…at?"

"Sorry about that Commodore, but it was necessary. If you'll tell my computer what size clothing you wear, it'll give you a generic ship suit to wear."

"What's the meaning of this Admiral?"

"Please, Commodore. Tell it what size you need. I've no desire to have this meeting with you in boxers and a tee-shirt."

"Laugh while you can, funny man."

----------------------------------------

_**A few minutes later**_

"Feel better Commodore?"

"Much, Admiral. Now, mind telling me why you had to bring me over like you did?"

"Our sensors detected a tap on your side of the conversation. What I'm about to show you is for your eyes alone, sir. A few hours ago, our sensors detected a dimensional incursion wave. What that means is that someone not from around here, that is, this universal dimension, appeared. We launched a series of cloaked probes to the approximate location and one of probes sent this back. Any idea what it is?"

Commodore Ross looked at the photograph. It was of a sleek ship with no discernable engines or other features.

"Can't say that I've ever seen anything like this, but, it does bear a striking resemblance to something I read about while I was at the Academy."

"Oh?"

"Back in the last century, after the Second World War, there was a supposed crash of an alien vessel in New Mexico."

"Roswell?"

"Uhm, no. Artesia, I believe it was. In any case, the US Government dismissed it as a hoax at the time, but the people there all described a ship like this one."

"Hmm. So many similarities, yet so many differences."

"What?"

"Commodore, what I'm about to tell you can go no further than this room. Do I have your word on that?"

"Admiral, I'm fully cognizant of the rules of classified briefings. You have my word, however, that nothing will be said of this meeting."

"Good. What I'm about to tell you may shock you, but I swear by everything I believe in that it is true. The reason we, that is to say, this ship, can detect dimensional incursions is because we are from a parallel dimension ourselves. I was born on Earth. My Earth and your Earth have similar histories it seems. The other thing I must tell you is that while I may seem human, I am actually of a race called Immortals. In every respect, Immortals are human. The one difference is that a normal Earth born human will eventually die, while an Immortal will live forever.

"As I said, I was born on Earth, in what is today on my world, called Spain. I was born around 500 BC. I have lived among the Humans on my earth for two and a half millennia. Fairly recently, by our calendar, news of our Immortality came out to the public at large. Immortals were given the right to form our own off-world colony on Earth's only satellite. We formed a governing council, and I was elected as the first President of said council.

"We were asked to come here, Commodore, to help resolve an issue of grave concern for your world. Whether that issue has been resolved or not, remains to be seen."

"Who asked you to come here?"

"The one whom Immortals call the Creator. You see, Commodore, Immortals were created, much like how your people tried to create life. Your race built the AIs to be soldiers and servants. Your people created the Invitroes to be a race of slave-soldiers and slave-workers. Our Creator created Immortals to act as guardians and teachers for the mortal humans on our Earth."

"I can't imagine that your Earth had the ability to create life artificially 500 years before the birth of Christ!"

"Oh well, I was born around 500 BC, but I'm not considered an elder of my race. There are several who are far older than I. And it wasn't humanity that create us. It was a race whom we call the Ancients."

"Ancients?"

"For millions of years they lived among the stars. Earth is their home; it is where they evolved. They were there before mortal humanity came into existence. In their early travels among the stars, they encountered a race far, far older than they. They called them the Progenitors. It was this first race that seeded the universe with a form of life not unlike their own. They encountered the Ancients and gave them the gift of ever-lasting life. They charged them with the task of overseeing the growth of these newly planted species among the stars. Shortly after that, the Progenitors passed into the next phase of their evolution. In the fullness of time, the Ancients also evolved, but they created Immortals first to take over their duties."

Marius felt Tok'Ra's approach. It was a feeling of warmth that flowed over and through his body. It was the Quickening of their father-creator.

"Marius, you do know how I do not like to be referred to as your Creator."

"Wha? Who? Uhm, I think I need a drink."

Commodore Ross was looking at a glowing ball of gas in front of him. It had appeared out of thin air!

"Easy now, Commodore Glenn van Ross. I will not hurt you."

"You know my name?"

"I know much about your species, Commodore. As Marius has already told you, I asked him to come here. It seems that you have discovered the secondary issue at play here Marius."

"The dimensional incursion, you mean?"

"The one who looks over this place, this universe, has been unable to identify the root cause of these incursions. As you might imagine, omnipotent or not, it does take quite a bit to oversee a universe."

"Why did he call you Marius? The one who oversees this place? Who might that be?"

"My birth name, Commodore, is Gaius Marius Augustus. As to the overseer of this universe, I'll let Tok'Ra cover that issue."

"Tok'Ra? What, er, who, are you?"

"My dear Commodore Ross. I am an Ancient. There is no cause for alarm. I am here, as are my children, at the request of the Ancient Overseer for your universe. You are at war with a race you call the Chig. It is a war born out of misunderstanding and out of contempt. You have a corporate entity on your home world known as Aerotech Industries. They are responsible for creating the various ships of your fleet and indeed most of the equipment your fleet uses. But why create weapons of war if not to use them? Your Aerotech Industries created this war for you Humans. If you indeed want peace with the Chig, then you must first arrest those responsible for creating this war.

"The Chig have been known to Aerotech Industries for some decades. They ignored their claims of territories when they launched the Tellus and Vesta colonial missions. The Chig responded by eradicating those colonies, for indeed, they had been located on worlds already colonized by the Chig. Though they might have been blameless at the beginning of this fiasco, they are not without blame at this point, for surely the entire blame for this mess can be placed squarely at the feet of those within Aerotech Industries.

"Long ago, when the universe was young, my kind roamed the stars as explorers. We have fought and won and fought and lost more wars than all of your combined histories put together. There are races in the universe far more insidiously evil than any you can imagine. I am one of a very few of my kind chosen to remain behind to guide the younger races. It is a honor and a duty that I take very seriously."

"I've seen no evidence of any such 'guide' here."

"You've not seen her for she chooses not be seen, yet she is here."

There was a flash of light in the room, more brilliant than a supernova that lasted for a few mere nano-seconds, but it was long enough to catch the attention of all in the room. Those who had survived the encounters with Q in the Federation universe recognized the entrance flash of a member of that Continuum.

"Oh great. A Q. There goes the neighborhood."

"I beg your pardon! While I may be a Q, I choose not to interfere directly as other Q do."

It was a woman, fairly young in appearance, that was in their midst. Dressed in a long flowing robe that was both transparent and opaque at the same time. Commodore Ross could feel a caring warmth radiating from her. His most primitive of instincts told him that this being meant him no harm.

"I meant no disrespect Q. But you have to admit that after having dealt with other Q, I might be a bit wary."

"If I were in your shoes and had dealt with Q, I would be wary too. But do not think of me as a Q. Call me Amanda."

"A Q with a sense of humor. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Be kind Admiral, less I decide to turn you into a frog for a bit."

"Uhm, no thanks. I'll be good!"

"So what are you? A God? Is that what you would have us believe?"

"No. I am not a God. Neither is Tok'Ra for that matter. He and I belong to the same type of species. Ours is one that is long-lived. Very long lived. I have been watching over your world since the first of your kind learned to walk up-right. Before that, I was human, in another universe. I know what it is to make a mistake. But I also know what it is to fix a mistake. I must do now something I should have done when this stupid war of yours started."

Amanda snapped her fingers and alarms began blaring out all over the fleet. The ships of the Tau'ri fleet, and those of the _Saratoga_ battle group were caught, as if by a hand, and were swept across the stars. In mere seconds, the two groups of ships found themselves in Earth space. Amanda snapped her fingers again, and a large battle group of Chig vessels suddenly appeared in the same space. A third snap of her fingers rendered all weapons systems and drive systems temporarily inoperable, save for station keeping thrusters.

Marius pressed the com-link on the back of his wrist and called the bridge.

"Bridge! What the hell just happened!"

"I 'aven't the foggiest, sahr!"

"Take it easy Mr. Jameson. Your accent is slipping."

"Apologies, sir. We don't know what hit us. But we're not where we were. Astrogation puts us in the Sol system, in Earth orbit if you can believe it, sir."

"Knowing full well the power of a Q, I do indeed believe it."

"Admiral Ramos? What just happened?"

"Our dear resident Q decided to move our little party and our fleets into Earth orbit. Beyond that, I'd suggest you ask her."

"Well, Miss Q?"

"Please Commodore Ross, call me Amanda. I did this so your investigative services would have full access to those responsible for this war, and so that you can carry out negotiations with your enemy. I'm sure that Admiral Ramos will gladly provide security for the negotiations."

"We will gladly do so. War is a terrible thing and if indeed this one was not meant to be then, yes, we will provide security for the negotiations. We will even mediate these negotiations. Your Earth is not my Earth. Your war is not our war. We have no vested interest in your affairs. And if not myself, then perhaps one of the other alien members of my crew?"

"Alien members, Admiral?"

"Alien members Commodore. We have Klingons, Tok'ra, Borg, Betazeds, Minbari, and Colonials aboard. Though I'd recommend the Betazeds. They'll keep both sides honest in this mess."

"I'll take it under consideration and pass along your offer."

"That's more than fair, sir. In the meantime, Commodore, I will be tasking my fleet to track down these dimensional incursions and see just what the hell is going on."

----------------------------------------

_**Earth Space**_

_**A day later**_

The alien vessel that had made the dimensional incursion a day before had traveled quickly to the Chig home world and had traded new technologies to them. Advanced cloning methods, newer weapon designs, faster computational devices. For this was the business they were in; commercial trade. In one fell swoop upon entering this universe, they had discovered two distinct races that probably would never have met and if they had met, would have been friendly towards one another, as neither race could live well in the atmospheric conditions of the other race. But where was the profit in keeping these two races on friendly terms?

They had first come to this blue planet over a local century ago. They had wanted to observe the local population in their reaction to visitors from the stars, so they had cobbled together a small ship, put in it enough pieces of alien matter to make up three creatures, and dropped the ship into a barren field. They had laughed long and hard at the reactions of the locals. Then they played on that reaction. Random abductions. Random sightings. Crop circles. Mysterious bits of messages received on numerous antenna arrays. All the while working with a select few to advance the technological level to a point where they wouldn't feel so bad about invading their world and claiming it for their own. An outpost for a new universe. An outpost from which to begin building a new universal empire.

They had made the jump between dimensions a few local days previously and had gone directly to the Chig home world to sell them the very latest in technological advancements, deciding to stop by Earth on their way back to their jumping off point. As they entered the Sol system, they found a lot of ships on their sensors that shouldn't be there. Too many ships, of so many different designs. Too many ships with multiple forms of engine technology, multiple types of weapons, and, of all things, multiple types of shield technologies! Perhaps they were just in time to witness another First Contact situation for the Earthers? The small crew resolved to observe quietly. The rigged their craft for full stealth mode, a type of condition that up to now had kept them unseen by the Earthers sensory nets.

----------------------------------------

_**Three days later**_

_**Admiral's Office**_

"Thank you for coming to see me, Major Carter. I've been thinking on a few things of late, and I need an opinion."

"Anything I can do to help, I will."

"Good. In going over the records of the Colonial skirmishes with the Cylons, I found a number of similarities in terms of tactics. The Cylons use sheer numbers to try and overwhelm the defending fighters of a carrier or fleet. The Cylons are like our former Borg enemies in one respect only; they are both cybernetic organisms. I dare not imagine an alliance between the Goa'uld and the Borg. Such a joining would overwhelm our own universe and I fear we would be soundly defeated. Fortunately, the Cylons are not the Borg.

"To this end, I studied their tactics, and found a startling similarity with the tactics employed by the Japanese and the Germans during World War II. They attack in large numbers, they show no mercy, and they are not above using suicide tactics to win the day. I've no desire to pit our own pilots against suicidal machines. Ships and cities in that war put up walls of anti-aircraft fire in an attempt to shoot down incoming enemy planes. We use anti-fighter batteries on our ships, but these are simple laser cannons. I know that engineering and science crews have been hard at work retro-fitting the anti-fighter laser batteries with pulse phaser cannons, for greater ranger and more power, but the idea I'd like to float past you is a modification of one of our existing ships

"During our war with the Borg, we used modified Federation J-class transports as light escort carriers. We also used their J-class transports as just that, transports. What I propose is to modify the J-class again. We take the standard transport and place anti-fighter rail gun turrets atop the cargo pods. We can utilize the existing cargo space as munitions magazines. Add in phaser strips to the periphery of the vessel and we now have a dedicated anti-fighter platform that provides one more level of defense for the larger cap ships. Moving on to another design, again from Starfleet, we have the _Defiant_-class heavy escort. The weapons are already as massive as we can make them, shy of adding Vorlon cannons, but that would make the ship too unwieldy. So my question to you is, how quickly can we begin producing hull sections for these two new ship classes?"

"Actually, sir, since the Forge Deck has no other outstanding orders, we can start production immediately on both ship classes. We can assign the _Nightingale_ to building the _Defiant_-class ships and the _Attendant_ to either building new flak ships or modifying our existing transports."

"I like the way you think, Major. I do have another ship in mind, but I'm not real sure what category it would fall under."

"Oh?"

"First of all, which is our most powerful beam weapon?"

"The Vorlon cannon or the Shadow Slicer, but not by much. The Type XII phaser is a close second, along with either the Romulan or Klingon disruptors, with Borg plasma beams a very close third."

"Ok, what about missile type weaponry? Include torpedoes in your assessment."

"Our own phase shifting Shipwrecks are quite powerful, but the Federation tri-cobalt torpedoes make all others pale in comparison. If we apply the phase shifting technology to these tri-cobalt torps, we'll have a weapon that neither the Goa'uld nor the Cylons could defend against. In the limited simulations we've run, pitting standard tri-cobalt torpedoes against Goa'uld Cheops class motherships, and given their odd desire for clustering together in tight groups, the explosion caused by the torpedo generally took out at least two motherships with one blast."

"Good. What we want then is a small ship, perhaps a crew of about forty to fifty, with the beam weapon emplacements of the types you mentioned, and launchers for standard and phase shifting tri-cobalt torpedoes. Instead of building a new type of ship, let's modify the existing J-class design again. Heavy beam weapon emplacements, torpedo and missile launchers, automated feed systems for the launchers, extensive sensor arrays, and limited crew. With our version of shields, and updated weaponry, these will become the system patrol ships. Adding another group of cargo pods gives the ability to add on a few fighters for limited scouting sorties."

"Sounds good sir. I'll have my staff draw up the plans you need."

"Excellent Major. And now, for some rest. Two more days before we can begin the business at hand. The business I've been dreading these last few days. You know, I really hate diplomatic meetings."

"Can't say I blame you sir. But better you than me, sir."

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_**Next Day**_

_**Sol Space**_

Red-Alpha squadron was on their third pass through the system when the sensors pinged on a target that hadn't been there in an earlier pass. Had they been using the same sensors as the _Hammerhead_ squadron that they were sharing this duty with, they wouldn't have seen the contact. But theirs were sensors derived from a combination of many species, and were somewhat more able to detect all the myriad oddities of the universe. Such was this oddity. A quick laser-link communication to the lead pilot in the 35th Wildcats determined that they saw no contact where the pilots of Red-Alpha did.

As they drew to within eight thousand meters of the object, all of the pilots in both squadrons could make out a vague outline of a ship that was occluding the stars behind it. Red-Alpha leader called for backup, and two more squadrons of _Thunderbolt_s moved in their direction along with a pair of _Peregrine_ command ships. The _Peregrine_s came into the area under cloak, and the fighters flew past as if seeing nothing. The two command ships approached to within five hundred meters of the ship, before dropping their cloaks and activating their tractor beams. The small alien ship suddenly found itself unable to move, and very shortly surrounded by several dozen fighters. The _Peregrine_s moved towards the _Halsey_, with their captive ship under tow. Attempts to hail the ship had gone unanswered.

Within the alien ship there was chaos and bedlam. They had thought themselves invisible and they had been proven wrong. They had thought the Earthers primitive and perhaps that was true, but it was not true of these others here. Two of their ships had approached to within half a metra and had been completely unseen either by sensors or by their own eyes! They had strained their engines almost to the point of overload, but could not escape the tractor beam that held them firmly. They had chosen not to answer the hails that had come over every frequency they had monitored for the Earthers.

The two ships that held them in their grasp pulled them towards the largest ship they had ever seen! It pulled them along and into the ship and set them down gracefully on the deck. Before any of them within could do anything, the ship was surrounded by over a dozen creatures wearing, of all things, what looked like metallic armor and capped by large bird-like heads. No, there were also some dog-like heads. This was something entirely new! Perhaps these were new players in this part of the galaxy and perhaps there was an opportunity to trade?

"Attention the ship! You will open your hatches and debark or we will be forced to cut your ship open. You have one minute to comply!"

"First, what should we do?"

"We open the hatches, Second. Make sure Third and Fourth are present as well."

"As you command, First."

The hatch on the side of the ship opened and a small gangplank flowed out to meet the floor at an angle. The security crews in their Jaffa armor, all the better to intimidate those within, stood fast and primed their staff weapons. Several of them gasped as small blue-gray aliens emerged. Not a one of them stood over five feet in height, but except for their blue-gray skin, they were human in appearance, with a slight epicanthic fold to their eyes. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Greetings. I am called First. Why have you captured my ship?"

"First you said? I am Admiral Marco Ramos, commander of the Alliance First Battle Group. May I ask, what species you are?"

"Li-Nezha. Answer my question, human."

"The Earthers could not identify your ship. As we are providing mediation and security for the upcoming peace negotiations, we felt it best to bring you aboard and begin a dialogue."

"The Earthers? You are not of them?"

"No. We are of the Alliance of Independent Systems."

Through an earpiece in his ear, Marius heard the following from Doctor Jackson.

"…They might have a different skin tone, but their eyes have that Asian fold to them. The name Li-Nezha appears in Chinese mythology. Li-Nezha was the boy child God of trickery and general all around prankster…"

"Never heard of you."

"Well, like you, we're not from around here."

"Oh?"

"Our scanners confirm that your ship has a different quantum signature than the Earthers. You are not from this dimension. Neither are we. We're just passing through."

"So are we."

"You shouldn't lie, First. It's not beneficial for any sort of future relations between our peoples."

"How do you know I'm not speaking the truth?"

"Because your ship and others like it have been seen on this Earth for decades. No, I rather think you are more than just passing through this area."

"Admiral. It's Jameson, sir. We've gotten remote access to their archives with a little help from Amanda. These aliens are selling weapons technologies to both sides in the current conflict, pitting one against the other. No reason yet for it, though."

"Well, First. It seems you've been rather naughty as the Earthers would say. Selling weapons technologies to both sides in this conflict. Shameful behavior for a race with the ability to move between dimensions."

"There is no way you could know that!"

"Tell me, First. Are their legends among your people of a race that lived long ago? A race that seeded the multi-verse with life?"

"The Fore Runners. Yes. There are such legends."

"Would you believe we have two of them on our ship?"

"Not without evidence of this fact."

The Immortals felt the Quickening growing in their minds. They knew Tok'Ra was coming. The Li-Nezha looked up as a golden cloud materialized in their midst. It was a wonder to behold, this cloud, for within it was a second cloud; a silver cloud, that slowly took shape into the form of a human. A human female.

"Li-Nezha. You're almost as bad as Q. Tricksters of your galaxy. You should know better than to interfere with another sentient race."

"You compare us to the vile and loathsome Q? How dare you!"

"Ah. So you are aware of the Continuum. Good. It will make my task all the more easier. Tell me, First, do you respect the Q?"

"The Q are the chosen of the Fore Runners. We respect them highly. How do you know of the Q?"

"I am one. I am the Q who oversees this universe. You have interfered with the species in this place and you must make amends to both species. Or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else the Continuum will not be so merciful as I am being. They will erase your kind from history. I am granting you the opportunity to make amends and to leave this place peacefully. You must never return here."

"Erased from history? No. That is something none of us want. Very well, Q. We will make amends to the species here. It is perhaps fortunate that both of them will be at the peace talks?"

"In your case, it is most fortunate."

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_**AIS Halsey**_

_**Diplomatic Offices**_

The parties were arriving at the same time as Marius. Three representatives each from either side with Mulder, Jackson, and himself as mediators. The Earthers had sent their Secretary General of the United Nations, Diane Hayden, and Allan Wayne, of Aerotech. Commodore Ross of the _Saratoga_ was along as their token military representative.

Marius found it odd, that Earth would send a representative from a private company to these negotiations, but then when looked at in conjunction with other things going on here, perhaps it wasn't so odd. He felt a tremor in his Quickening, and saw the rest of the room freeze.

"Young one."

"Tok'Ra. And Amanda as well. To what do I owe this honor?"

"Beware the Earthers, Marius. The one calling herself Secretary General was once the same as the other. He is the current heard of Aerotech and she is the former head, and both are pawns of the Li-Nezha. There is a movement afoot here to conceal the truth from all on Earth. Our best advice to you is that when you sit down, you must endeavor to keep these two sets of humanoids at the table until their differences are resolved. Make sure there are plenty of cameras and microphones in the room. You will want your ship to broadcast the proceedings as far and as wide as possible."

"Thank you. Now, I must attend my duties."

Marius did as the two higher beings had suggested and opened the room to broadcast.

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_**Offices of Global Network News**_

_**Broadcast Central**_

"…so what you're telling me is that you are the communications officer aboard the _Halsey_, correct?"

"That is affirmative, sir."

"And you will be sending us a signal for rebroadcast of the peace talks?"

"Also correct, sir."

"Hell son, send it on down!"

On hundreds of thousands of televisions around the globe, the message was the same, a generic 'Please, Stand By'. Then a talking head appeared, known far and wide as a trusted reporter to them. There was breaking news, he told them, of the War. The UN Secretary General was preparing to meet with the Chig representative to discuss their surrender. There was also some third party acting as mediator between the two warring parties. The image of the reporter shrank down to a small window in the upper left corner as the image from the _Halsey_ took up most of the screen.

"…Good. I see we have a picture now. Folks, for the majority of us on Earth, this will be the first time we see the face of our enemy. I'm told that the three people to the right side of the screen are the UN Secretary General and two aides. The three 'people' on the left side are the Chig equivalent of our own Secretary General. And the three in the middle are the mediators. They are representatives of some unknown race that the USS _Saratoga_ recently encountered in deep space. I am told that these people call themselves Ta-ree. Excuse me, Tow-Ree, and that they are from a distant part of the universe, and that they are explorers. As most in our audience know, the _Saratoga_ was one of the many carriers that took part in the Battle of the Belt and it is home to the famous 58th Wildcard Squadron. Apparently all we have going on at the moment as what seem to be basic introductions. We're going to listen in on the frequency now, and interrupt as necessary to explain the proceedings…"

"On behalf of the Alliance of Independent Systems, and on the member worlds represented aboard the _Halsey_, I welcome both parties to these negotiations. My name is Major Fox Mulder and myself and my aides will attempt to help you reach a compromise suitable to both sides. For the benefit of myself and my aides, if only one representative from either side could speak at a time, I'm sure we'll find that these proceedings will advance apace.

"While I understand that both sides have valid reasons for beginning this war betwixt yourselves, I seek to understand these reasons, so please bear with me if it seems at times that we are covering ground that has already been covered. That said, please, Chig Representative, explain why your forces attacked the Human colonies at Tellus and Vesta."

"The Humans were warned not to encroach on our territorial space. The one called Hayden was aware of our territorial limits."

"I was not! This is the first I've heard of these so-called territorial limits!"

"Untrue. You were there, in the system you call Epsilon Eridani. We found your probe, the one you called Pioneer 10, as it entered our space. We deciphered the messages you put on there. We sought to make peaceful contact. We invited you to meet us at the Eridani system. You, Hayden, and others like you, claimed to be acting for your world. We signed treaty in good faith. Yet you still sent colonists to one of our nursery worlds. We merely defended our young ones."

"Nothing but bold faced lies! I never met with you nor did I sign any treaty with you!"

"As I have no way of determining who is telling the truth, I'm afraid I must ask a higher power for guidance in this matter."

As all of Earth watched, the one called Mulder took to one knee and appeared to pray for guidance. As his lips moved to some unheard prayers, the camera panned up and right just in time to capture the formation of a silver cloud that moved and coalesced over the form of Major Mulder.

"Naughty Humans. And here I thought it was against your most Holy of Laws to lie? Yet I forget that you are a politician and among your kind it is acceptable for politicians to lie. Shall I show your world the truth Human Hayden? Shall I show your world the record of your meetings in the Eridani system?"

"Who, uh, er, what are you?"

"Consider me the Guardian Spirit of the Universe. I have watched over the varied species of this plane for billions of years. I have taken over the form of the one you know as Mulder, for to see my true form would render you blind in awe of my radiance."

On Earth, on a thousand thousand television sets, the words 'Technical difficulties, please stand by…' suddenly appeared. It would later be attributed to an unexpected solar flare interfering with the signal from the conference ship, but in actuality it was due to the official UN censor inside the main satellite download site cutting the incoming feed to the networks. But it wasn't the only site, and many smaller networks took up the slack in the feed, broadcasting the events to their loyal viewers, without the interruptions from the network talking heads. With no play-by-play, the viewers were left to make their own judgments about the events taking place at the conference. In truth, many, far too many, were tired of the lies by the current slate of politicians and of the lies told by the politicians before them. News that the war was caused by an Earth corporation did not sit well with them.

It started in the smaller cities first, with angry citizens taking to the streets. The average citizen can take a lot of things. Sacrifices in times of war are one thing, when the war is legitimate, but when it is a war caused not by an error on the part of the legitimate government, but rather on the fault of a greedy corporation, then the citizen can only take so much. It is said that greed is one of the deadliest sins out there, and in this case, it would prove deadly to the offices of the Aerotech Corporation. Citizens marched on their local town halls, demanding a cessation of hostilities, and demanding justice. They wanted Aerotech and its officers, current and past, to pay for their crimes against humanity.

To the average citizen on the street, the fault of the deaths of the colonists at Tellus and Vesta, could be laid squarely at the feet of UN Secretary General Hayden, who, as chairwoman of the board of Aerotech, authorized the missions to colonize those two worlds. Worlds, which, had already been claimed by the Chig.

The average citizen of Earth wanted the simple things in life. A roof over their heads, medical help when necessary, three meals a day, the right to engage in leisurely pursuits, and the right to practice their religion as they saw fit. They didn't want this war. In thousands and thousands of small cities across the globe, the news footage turned from coverage of the peace talks, to coverage of the rising citizen's movement. Even with full blown censorship in place due to the war, word of the peaceful protest spread far and wide, eventually coming to a small part of Nevada where Aerotech had its headquarters, and to Virginia where the Aerotech shipyards were located. It also spread to New York, where the UN was situated.

Aboard the _Halsey_, Amanda had made her presence known to all the major players, using a bit of subterfuge.

"Secretary Hayden, the human race does not breathe methane, and the Chigs do not breathe oxygen, yet you chose to invade their worlds, and to invade their sovereign territory. The two races can yet be friends, provided the treaty you sign here today is obeyed by all. There will come a time, when Chig and Human may fight along side one another, but that is still far in your future. For now, the two races can pool their resources. There are many systems with habitable planets. Some systems have planets with oxygen atmospheres, some with methane environments. In some regions, those planets exist in the same system. You can work together, which benefits both races. Or you can annihilate one another, benefiting neither race."

"We can never have peace with such as they!"

"Perhaps, Secretary Hayden, you are too quick to judge. In any case, the decision is now out of your hands. Commodore, it is perhaps wise at this juncture that you contact your United Earth Forces headquarters on Earth for guidance."

"Why?"

"Trust me on this."

Major Mulder showed the Commodore where he could use a communications console in relative privacy. The Commodore learned, much to his surprise, that the UN on Earth had met in emergency session and had called for the immediate resignation of the Secretary General. Additionally, the UN and the UEF had immediately suspended all contracts with Aerotech pending an investigation by the World Court into charges of crimes against humanity perpetrated by Aerotech and its current and former board of directors. For the moment, permission to negotiate was given to Commodore Glenn van Ross as he was the ranking officer on site. His orders further stated that he was to take Secretary Hayden and Director Wayne into immediate custody pending trial.

And just like that, the war between the Chigs and the Humans was over. It would take a while for the news to spread to all the reaches of either fleet, and in the meantime there would be skirmishes between the two fleets. But in the end, the Chigs would return to their part of space and the Humans would honor the borders of known Chig space. Major Mulder and Doctor Jackson managed to get both parties to agree to a neutral line of space as a buffer between the two governments. A line in space one cubic parsec wide along the common border between Chig and Human space. And in the middle of that neutral zone, would be one station where the two races could meet to air their differences in relative peace, without resorting to outright warfare. The galaxy had just become a bit safer, and all because the average citizen on the street could stomach no more lies.

In the wake of the peace conference, the Li-Nezha made private overtures to both legitimate governments and offered to help with the rebuilding of their damaged cities. It was a small token of a peaceful gesture made by the race that had incited Aerotech to go to war with the Chig.

The UEF and the UN were both grateful to the AIS _Halsey_ and her ships, and allowed them to stay in Earth space while they completed some overdue maintenance programs. In addition to fixing what needed fixing, they were also granted permission to do a little mining and the cargo holds of the various ships filled up quickly. One specially fitted _Defiant_ had been completed for the Minbari aboard to take home, which they were scheduled to return home soon. A second slightly modified _Defiant_-class heavy escort had been built for the three members of the Terran Federation, who had completed their training, and were all too eager to return to their own universe.

The UEF had been gracious about letting the _Halsey_ use the James Lovell Orbital Assembly Facility for a few weeks, during which the Forge deck was able to churn out hull sections for four _Defiant_-class heavy escorts, and two additional _Hyperion_-class heavy cruisers. The lead ship of the _Hyperion_ class was, aptly named, the _Hyperion_, with the second vessel dubbed the _Bunker_ _Hill_; they joined the _Lexington_ and _Concord_ as escorts in the fleet. The heavy escorts were christened _Defiant_, _Victory_, _Valor_, and _Honor_.

When the time came at last to leave this final mission universe, there was no great fanfare. Commodore Ross appeared on the main view screen with a message of farewell.

"_Halsey_, without your help, this war might have gone on until we'd destroyed ourselves. Now we have a viable chance for peace and the Chig and ourselves are eagerly taking that chance. For that we owe you a round of thanks. I have been authorized by the UEF to transmit to you, via a sub channel, a full database of our technology, including the plans and specifications for all of our current capital ships and fighters and support vessels. I have been further charged with presenting you with the UEF _John F Kennedy_. This vessel is the lead ship in the class and also the oldest ship in the class. It was due to be mothballed with the war now over. It is fitting to present it to you in your time of need. It has a full compliment of fighter and support squadrons aboard. It is our sincere hope that you can use them to win your own war. God speed and good hunting. Ross, Earth, out."

"Communications, signal the fleet. Prepare to jump. And, Jump!"

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Once again they were surround by an absolute white nothingness. But this time it was different. Their missions, the tasks that Tok'Ra had set out for them were completed. Now, when they jumped again, it would be the jump that would take them home. Three years spent jumping from universe to universe, fighting wars for others. Three years in which the crew of the _Halsey_ and her support fleet had become as a family. The crews were now, without a doubt, the most experienced space fairing soldiers Earth possessed. But Tok'Ra assured them he would manipulate time one final time in their favor, and when they returned only three months will have passed.

"Mr. Jameson, what's the first thing you want to do when you get home?"

"I've in mind a good steak and a tall pint of ale, sir. And you, sir?"

"A cow or two, a few cases of beer, and lots and lots of rest and relaxation, and not necessarily in that order."

"Aye aye sir. Fleet reports ready to jump at your command, sir."

"Jump!"

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	9. War

_Peace and War_

_Part IV of the Potentials Series_

_Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible._

----------------------------------------

_**War**_

----------------------------------------

Surrounded once again by an absolute white nothingness, a complete void of anything corporeal or otherwise, the fleet prepared to make the final jump back to their home universe. But this time it was different. Their missions, the tasks that Tok'Ra had set out for them, were completed. Now, when they jumped again, it would be the jump that would take them home. Three years spent jumping from universe to universe, fighting wars for others. Three years in which the crew of the _Halsey_ and her support fleet had become as a family. The crews were now, without a doubt, the most experienced space fairing soldiers Earth possessed. But Tok'Ra assured them he would manipulate time one final time in their favor, and when they returned only three months would have passed.

The inter-dimensional projectors which Tok'Ra had placed onto the _Halsey_ now had only enough power to make one final jump. And when the jump was completed, the projectors would dissolve into nothingness, being drained of all their energy. It was the ultimate safeguard.

"Mr. Jameson, what's the first thing you want to do when you get home?"

"I've in mind a good steak and a tall pint of ale, sir. And you, sir?"

"A cow or two, a few casks of beer, and lots and lots of rest and relaxation, not necessarily in that order."

"Aye-aye, sir. Fleet reports ready to jump at your command, sir."

"Jump!"

----------------------------------------

They hadn't jumped into their home system. That would have been far too easy. Tok'Ra wanted to give them time to marshal their new fleet and to allow them to prepare the way home.

"Mr. Jameson, where are we?"

"Looks like just outside of the Sol System, approximately sixteen light years. Your orders, sir?"

"Deploy the fleet."

"Deploy fleet, aye sir!"

The AIS _Admiral Halsey_ stood proud and defiant at the center of the fleet, her eight _Prometheus_-class battlecruiser escorts arrayed around her. On the far sides of the central fleet stood the four _Hyperion_-class heavy cruisers, with their own _Defiant_ heavy escorts around them. The two _Nova_-class dreadnoughts flanked the left and right of the fleet, surrounded by the _Olympus_-class corvettes. Behind the _Halsey_ was the _Douglas Munro_; a vessel that all of the remaining ground forces of the strike fleet now called home. She, in turn, was surrounded by the six _Jeep_-class light escort carriers. Interspersed among the heavier fleet vessels were the few _Peregrine_-class gunboats they'd managed to produce, the _Kennedy_-class carrier _John F. Kennedy_, and the two _Whitestar_s, the _O'Neill_, and the_ Free Jaffa_. Bringing up the rear were the fleet support vessels. Four anti-fighter flak ships, eight missile corvettes, two tenders, six colony ships and eight freighters. The small support fleet was surrounded by ten _Danube_-class scouts. It made for a formidable picture as it cruised through space.

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_**Independence Station**_

_**Earth Orbit**_

Graveyard shift. A person could really hate the third shift aboard a space station. Nothing ever happened on the third watch. There might be a little activity in the shipyard above Luna, or maybe some minor maintenance of Vipers at Phobos, but usually there was nothing. Hell, even the Asgard liked to come during the first two shifts. Maybe they realized no one important would be awake at the moment? Hell, who knew. All that Sensor Operator Second-class Smythson knew was that nothing ever happened on his watch. Until now, that is. He wondered for a split second how long the light on his panel had been blinking red for his attention.

"Sir, Smythson at the long range panel sir. I have a contact, correction, multiple contacts, approximately sixteen light years out from Sol on an incoming vector."

The Duty Officer duly routed Smythson's panel information to the central panel in the Sensor Center, where all of the duty section could examine the information. There was no IFF at this distance as the interrogator aboard the _Indy_ had gone down a few hours before. Maintenance was working on it, but it would be some hours before they could trace and isolate the problem. He looked at the list of ships available in the system. AIS _Kuznetsov_ was in dry-dock undergoing an upgrade to the hyperdrive. CFS _Galactica_ was also in dry-dock at Deimos undergoing a complete refit. That left the new Battlestar, due to come out of space dock at the beginning of first watch, and two _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers that had just returned from shakedown cruises. Acting on his own initiative, Ensign Anderson placed his key into the alert panel before him and pressed the revealed red button.

Instantly after pressing the button, klaxons began sounding at the Luna Control Center, the Colonial Command Center, the SGC, and the primary control center aboard the _Independence_. Watch and duty officers immediately called him to find out the emergency, to which he dutifully passed along the sensory panel information they had picked up.

Responding to the alert klaxon, the _Perseus_ and the _Raleigh_, both _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers, were quick to contact Independence Control for updates.

"_Indy Control, Raleigh. What's the scoop?_"

"Unknown contacts, sixteen light years out. IFF interrogator on _Indy_ is down for maintenance. What's your status?"

"_One training squadron aboard. Awaiting supplies for next mission_."

"Roger that. Break. _Perseus_, do you copy?"

"_Copy Indy Control. Be aware hyperdrive is presently down for maintenance. Sub-light drives available, but at this distance, we'd hate to try an intercept. Our squadron is available for inner-system defense. We are preparing to depart to allow our weapons to defend the station."_

"Affirmative. I show green on the airlocks. You are cleared to disengage. Break. _Raleigh_, be advised _Perseus_ is down with engineering casualty. We will check with Luna and Mars for available interdiction craft."

"_Affirmative Indy Control. Raleigh requesting permission to depart_."

"Permission granted. Hold at L4 for word on reinforcements."

"_Understood._"

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"_Lunar Control, Independence Station here. What is your available status_?"

"Colonial Fleet Ship Battlestar _Caprica_ is taking on supplies and personnel at this time. Estimated departure space dock twelve hours. Alliance vessel _Battleship IDBX-1_, scheduled to depart space dock two weeks. Presently only armed shuttles available for interdiction duties, and we are launching those shuttles now. Three shuttles on Earth. Radioing our team there to launch immediately. Be advised, ion cannons are on-line and fully operational."

"Understood Lunar Control. Please direct shuttles to Earth orbit to serve as defensive line."

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"_Colonial Command, Independence Control. Please update available ship status_?"

"CFS Battlestar _Daedalus_ available in all respects. _Galactica_ undergoing refit. _Caprica_ estimated in-service time now at twelve hours."

"_Where are Galactica's fighter squadrons?_"

"Launching at this time from Deimos."

"_Understood. Colonial Command, be aware that at this time, USAF Raleigh is available for escort duty. USAF Perseus available only for inner system defense. Luna Command presently has twelve armed shuttles available for inner system defense, including three on Earth._"

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**AIS _Admiral Halsey_**

The time had come for them to part ways with their extra crew. Sitting in space in front of the _Halsey_ was the _Defiant_-class heavy escort that had been given to Shai Alyt Teraan of the Minbari and his crew.

"It has been an honor and a pleasure to fight alongside you Minbari. Our fight is not your fight. You have many at home who await your return. All we ask is that the gifts we have given to you be presented to Delenn and Sheridan. They will know what is best for those items. Good luck, and may Valen guide you and protect you in all the dark places you must walk."

"_For a Human, you are more honorable than I would have expected. Perhaps if the Earthers of our universe could have been like you and yours, we could have avoided the long fight between our peoples. Valen walk with you_."

The Defiant moved out to a distance of five thousand meters from the _Halsey_. Tok'Ra approached the heavy escort and encompassed it within his Quickening. The space around the Defiant grew in intensity and a flash later, the Defiant was gone, returned to the universe that had Babylon 5 as a focal point.

Next came the second modified Defiant. The Peregrine gunboats flew around it, as if bidding it farewell, before returning to their stations surrounding the fleet.

"Pilot Ibanez. You have learned all that we can possibly teach you. Use your knowledge well. Lieutenant Rico, Corporal Flores. Captain Phillipson tells me that you have learned all he can teach. That you have absorbed all of his lessons and strategies. Teal'c praises your skills and wishes you honor and luck in your future battles with the Arachnids. The heavy escort we have given to you has been slightly modified for your exclusive use. Ibanez, you can control the entire ship from the central console. Rico, this ship has had a larger crew deck added to it. Ibanez can teleport you down to any target and pick you up just as fast. The weapons in her armory should enable you to defeat your enemies once and for all. May the Fates protect you and watch over you where ever you must walk."

"_Halsey. Please pass along our thanks to Captain Phillipson, Colonel Starbuck, Major Carter, Teal'c, and Colonel O'Neill, for all the hours spent training us. We have become better equipped to deal with the enemies to the Terran Federation because of you. We will pass along our skills and hope that no harm will come to our world, so long as we live. Thank you, again_."

The escort moved out to the same space recently vacated by the other escort. Tok'Ra approached this smaller ship and enveloped it with his Quickening, and a flash of golden light later, the vessel had vanished.

"Mr. Jameson, what is our status?"

"All ships report ready to jump."

"Very well, Mr. Jameson. Give the order to jump."

"Aye sir. All ships, _Halsey_ control. Jump. Now!"

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Three months. Three years. Three months they had been gone from this universe. Three years they'd spent aboard ship. The _Halsey_ was due for refit in a bad way. All of the emergency repairs and upgrades they'd made along the way were beginning to wear on a hull not designed for those advanced systems. And even with a full compliment of Construction Furys and Work Bees working full out, the best estimate Major Carter could give on a complete refit was still more than a month. Marius hoped that the shipyards at Luna had at least completed the next strike carrier or two. When they left the system, AIS _Kuznetsov_ had been two weeks from completion. The next three vessels had already been named, though when the _Halsey_ had departed _Independence_, only their keels had been laid down. The _Spruance_ would follow the _Kuznetsov_, then the _Nelson_, and the _Bismarck_. As anxious to get home as he was, he was certainly not looking forward to taking up desk duty again. Perhaps when all of this was over, he'd outfit a nice little ship and take a slow leisurely cruise through Alliance-held territory.

"Sir, navigation reports we are within the system now. Just passing the Lunar Interdiction Zone."

"Thank you Mr. Jameson. All ships, prepare to jump to normal space."

Space seemed to blossom inward in a spiral of mottled blues and blacks. There were perhaps an even dozen of these openings in the fabric of space. To those ships in the system, it seemed as if one massive ship appeared from the central blue vortex, followed closely by other ships from the other vortices.

"Independence Control. Independence Control. This is the AIS _Admiral_ _Halsey_. Rumors of our deaths have been greatly exaggerated. Permission to approach Independence station."

"_Permission is…granted. Welcome home, Halsey. Welcome home_."

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"Mr. Jameson, put us in a parking orbit."

"Aye sir."

"Comms, get me a conference call with the SGC, Lunar Control, Independence Station, and Colonial Control. Route it through to my office when ready."

"Affirmative sir."

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_**A few minutes later**_

_**Admiral's Office**_

"Before y'all begin asking me questions, let me just say a few things first. Little did we know, when we started our maiden voyage three months ago, that Tok'Ra had in mind some tasks for us. Three months have passed locally, but for those of us aboard the _Halsey_, it's been three years. In three years, we've lost approximately one half of our effective fighting force. We've had to train replacement pilots and infantry personnel. We also made a few friends out there, and brought back a few goodies that will make even the Asgard salivate. Now then, your questions please?"

"Please identify for us, the new ships in your fleet?"

"Of course, Commander Apollo. The two pairs of long ships on either side of our fleet are _Hyperion_-class Heavy Cruisers. The _Hyperion_ has one launch bay for fighters and shuttles. At any given moment, it has eight _Aurora_-class _Starfury_ fighters ready to launch, with an additional eight that can be made ready to launch inside of fifteen minutes. The two long vessels on each of the outer flanks are _Nova_-class Dreadnoughts, each one with an _Aurora_ fighter compliment of thirty-six. The four saucer-like vessels are _Defiant_-class Heavy Escorts. They may be small ships, but they pack one hell of an impressive array of weaponry, from beam weapons to missiles and torpedoes. Next are the eight _Peregrine_-class Heavy Gunboats. With a crew of five each, they act as command and control units for our fighter squadrons. They can refuel our fighters, extending their range, and have more powerful sensors. In one sense, they are an AWACS platform, yet they are fully capable of defending themselves and acting as offensive fire platforms. The one shaped like a giant 'plus' sign is a _Vorchan_-class Heavy Cruiser. It has no hangar bays, but it does have numerous beam and missile emplacements. The long ones with the fighters mounted externally…those are _Jeep_-class Light Escort Carriers. Each one has eighteen _Thunderbolt_ fighter-bombers attached along the exterior of the vessel. The smaller box shaped ships are _Olympus_-class Corvettes. Again, no fighter bays, but their role is more for escort and system patrol than anything else. The next large vessel is an _Honor_-class Troop Carrier. It has enough room aboard to carry four thousand ground assault troopers, and can deploy those troops via fifty drop ships. The vessel also has launch bays where our remaining _Mustangs_ are housed.

"The secondary fleet, our support fleet, is built around the _Kennedy_-class Carrier. That carrier has room aboard for six thousand personnel, though at the moment, we have a small skeleton crew running her. She also has a flight deck capable of support two hundred and fifty six aircraft of various configurations. That carrier is escorted by our two fleet tenders, six colony ships, eight freighters, and ten long range attack scouts.

"The last two ships are _WhiteStar_-class Frigates. Though significantly smaller than the _Hyperion_-class, they are the equal to any ship in our fleet, except the _Halsey_ herself, in terms of sheer raw firepower. However, because of their smaller size, only two fighters can be launched at any time, with another single fighter ready to launch inside of fifteen minutes. Those two ships have a crew of forty, and can carry sixty infantry troops, with their equipment, into battle. Unlike our other larger vessels, a _Whitestar_ can fly inside a planetary atmosphere and land on the surface to discharge the troops and equipment, then act as close support for those troopers."

"Very impressive. You said also you'd lost half of your ship's compliment. How?"

"By getting involved, General Hammond, in a war we had no wish to participate in, against an enemy even more insidious than the Goa'uld. We have thirty-six hundred bodies in cold storage aboard the _Halsey_. The rest, I'm afraid, were killed with weapons that vaporized them instantly. And before the various nations of Earth begin to quibble over paying the personnel aboard the _Halsey_ three years worth of back pay, please rest assured that the Immortal Council will take care of that issue."

"I also want to inform you that we have some additions to our crew from one of the places we traveled to. Thirty-two Klingons and an equal number of Betazeds joined us. The Klingons are a formidable race of warriors, the smallest of which stands at five and a half feet tall. Two of our British personnel got married along the way. SAS Sergeant-Major Robert McShane married Morga, daughter of Torla of the House of Koteth. Her family wished to join her on our journey. The war we were engaged in had all but wiped out her family, and they chose to join us completely. Morga's cousin, Koth serves as Captain of the AIS _Lexington_, one of our _Hyperion_s.

"Robert's cousin, Douglas McShane, a Color-Sergeant with a Scottish detachment aboard the _Halsey_, also married. His wife is Triessa of Betazed. She is of the Eighth House, one of the ruling families on Betazed. An equal number of her family joined the _Halsey_. Six of them, in addition to Triessa, are serving as medical personnel aboard the _Halsey_. You see, gentlemen, all of the inhabitants of Betazed are telepathic. The added medical personnel, doctors all of them, also serve as counselors for our crews. Along with these Klingons and Betazeds, we also have over three thousand Borg aboard."

"It is good to have you back, Mr. President. I was really beginning to hate your job."

"Marcus Constantine. I'm not sure I want my old job back. I rather like it here aboard ship."

"No! You are needed here Mr. President. I'll gladly take over your duties as Fleet Admiral."

"I'm sure you will, Marcus. In any case, I have a few details to attend to, before the _Halsey_ goes in for refit. Three years without a space dock can wreak havoc on a ship's systems. And there are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of upgrades that we need to pass along to the other ships of our burgeoning fleet. Vastly improved armor and weapons, new life support systems, new computer systems. All in all, gentlemen, the technology now aboard the _Halsey_ will bring Earth, Luna, and Mars very rapidly perhaps three to five hundred years ahead technologically from where we are now."

"I look forward to your report, Admiral."

"And you shall have it soon, General. Commander Apollo, your man Starbuck is rather anxious to return to your service. He'll be leading back the remaining _Viper_s in our squadrons, and he'll be in a _Thunderbolt_ _Starfury_. He'll also have the design schematics for these fighters with him, along with the modifications needed if you wish to employ them on your Battlestars. Indy Control, how many fighter berths do you have available?"

"All of them. We have yet to receive our fighter squadrons."

"Excellent. For the time being, while _Halsey_ is in refit, our fighters will need a home base to fly from. We have sixteen squadrons at the moment, that's four times your normal capacity I believe, but we can base some of them on Mars, Earth, or Luna. What we'll do is send four squadrons to _Indy_, and three each to Mars, Luna, and Earth. Also, and only with the permission of Colonial Command and the various Earth Governments, we have a number of orbital defense satellites that we can begin launching immediately. The completed grid has sixty satellites in a three layered constellation approximately ten thousand kilometers above the surface. The satellites have a single neutron beam cannon, three type-VIII pulse phase cannons, forty Venom anti-fighter missiles, forty anti-ship plasma torpedoes, and a half dozen short range flak cannons that serve only to protect the platform. As President of the Immortal Council, I'm ordering their immediate deployment around Luna. We can deploy them around Earth and Mars as soon as we get the word to do so."

"We will consider this as well, Marius. Please forward your report as soon as you are able."

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_**Two weeks later**_

_**Offices of the Immortal Council**_

_**Dome Ryan, Luna**_

Paperwork. Mounds and mounds of paperwork. It seemed his leaving the _Halsey_ had done nothing to diminish the sheer amounts of paperwork generated by a fledgling government. Marius had hoped that Marcus or one of the others on the Council could have helped him with these issues, but as with all things, these were best dealt with by someone with the authority to do so. In other words, they were paying him back big time for disappearing for three months. Or was that three years? It sure as heck felt like three years to him. To be told that the _Halsey_ had been officially listed as missing for only three months made him think that Tok'Ra had a wicked sense of humor.

Of their dimensional travels, Marius most enjoyed the time spent on Babylon 5, that space station that he thought of as a beacon of a hope in a dark universe. Compared to those Starfleeters, the folks at B5 were better acquainted with the twists of fate the universe tends to throw at one. Though the journeys were dimensional in nature, it could also be said, since there was an element of temporal displacement as well, that each of those places the _Halsey_ visited could be a possible future for his universe.

To Marius, it seemed that folks like John Sheridan and Michael Garibaldi were more real than their counterparts like Jean-Luc Picard and Kathryn Janeway. For all their 'advancements', the people of the United Federation of Planets had forgotten what it meant to be truly human. Yes, true, they'd had an atomic war, but less than a hundred years afterwards, some guy named Cochrane had created the first warp drive, breaking the supposedly unbreakable speed of light. There was something strange about that whole scenario, and Marius couldn't for the life of him put his finger on it.

The technological progression of the Earth Alliance, however, seemed about right. It was the same with the Terran Federation, and the Earth united under the United Nations. Their technological prowess was on a par with their own. But those Starfleeters seemed to take one too many things for granted as far as he was concerned. In too many respects, especially when it came to weapons tech, they were so like the Tollan it wasn't funny. What Marius found ironic was that while Janeway and her precious Federation had their Prime Directive, the Ferengi did not. They gladly traded all of their technology databases in exchange for that liquid stuff they called latinum. But hey, who was he to complain? They'd fulfilled the number one standing order of the SGC; the retrieval of advanced technologies that would help Earth in the fight against the Goa'uld.

In that respect, the mission of the _Halsey_ had been an out and out success. The main problem now wasn't so much as building a ship, but as in deciding which ships to build. On their journey, they'd built only what they could when they'd had access to a space dock. But now that they were back home, and with some extra capacity now available in the orbital shipyards, Marius wanted to take advantage of the situation. Ships like the _Halsey_ had originally been conceived of as a long range support vessel, hence the Forge deck.

Thus the first thing that Marius ordered done was the installation of the dozen or so industrial replicators, they'd purchased from the Ferengi. These were put to use immediately building the squadrons of _Thunderbolts_ that the AIS would now use as its frontline fighter. Despite the fact that the _Thunderbolt_ and the F-302 were approximately the same size, the _Thunderbolt_ had a lot of equipment packed into it already.

There was just no room left within the small ship for the hyperspace window generator that the 302s used. So it was decided to keep the 302s operational for now, until such time as a new _Thunderbolt_ could be designed that could generate its own hyperspace window.

Marius was just beginning to pick up the next report on his desk when his door chimed.

"Come in."

"Mr. President."

"Ah, Mako. How goes the duty of Luna's First Protector?"

"All is not well, Mr. President. I have just today received a rather interesting report from Protector Sheridan."

"He is the one you appointed to serve as Protector for our embassies, yes?"

"Correct. His report, if I may, Mr. President."

"Mako, please, at least in the confines of this office, I am Marius, or Marco if you prefer."

"Of course, Marius. Protector Sheridan was contacted in his room just a few days ago. Contacted by one Alex Krycek with information regarding the recent spate of beheadings on Earth."

"Krycek, eh? I'm sure Mulder will be all too happy to learn that he is still in the picture."

"Yes, I've read Major Mulder's reports regarding the Consortium. In any case, it seems Mr. Krycek had some rather interesting information for Sheridan. Though he had no physical evidence to prove his story, it seems that Senator Robert Kinsey is behind this whole mess."

"The same Senator Kinsey who is running for President?"

"The one and the same."

"I see. Well, give Protector Sheridan any and all support he needs to resolve this issue as soon as possible. I'll see if I can defuse Kinsey a bit, or at the very least, side-track him with other issues."

"Of course, Mr. President."

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_**An Hour Later**_

_**Luna**_

Within Luna, in the Main Dome, in a closet in the Office of the President, a light flashed once, and a woman appeared. A light flashed again and this time two people appeared; a man and a woman. The first woman was unique in this universe. She was of a singular beauty, with eyes that could pierce a man's soul. She wore her hair long but there was a skeletal structure of some type that protruded from her head. The second woman had dark eyes and auburn hair. She and the man with her radiated a type of power that was almost impossible to perceive, yet it was also almost impossible to deny. One of them moved away from the device they had touched and interrupted a sensor beam. The tripped sensor sent an immediate signal to the President of the Immortal Council, who happened at that particular moment to be in the Council Chambers as the other Immortals debated some new rule for non-Immortals on Luna.

Marius reached for the pager that he and all of the leadership and command staff now wore. He hated the damn things, but they were becoming a necessary evil. The code displayed on it was one he had programmed in when he had first returned from the dimensional travels, but it was also one he had rather hoped he'd never see. To see it this soon, well, he wondered what was going on in that place. He made a motion with his hand and called for attention.

"As it is coming on towards the lunch hour, perhaps we should adjourn for now and spend some time to ponder these new regulations. While yes, our nation is still small and in its infancy, we do not wish to alienate the other major powers in this system. There must be a better solution than to curtail all migration to here. We shall take this matter up again this afternoon."

Marius tossed his pager at Marcus. Marcus raised an eyebrow, but looked at the message displayed thereon. He had been fully briefed on all that Marius had done in the other dimensions. To see a code 7-R, displayed on the small device could only mean one thing. They had visitors, through the mirror. After a moment's hesitation, Marcus also brought along Nefertiri, whom he had personally briefed on the meaning behind '7-R'.

Marius, with Marcus and Nefertiri in tow, walked into his office to find two people whom he had thought never to see again, and a stranger whom he'd never met before.

Delenn looked at Marius with a twinkle in her eyes. This was a man whom she had met some three years earlier in her time, before the Shadow War, and before the Earth civil war. He had not changed, but a voice in her mind reminded her of his Immortality. The two others with him were a mystery to her, but she guessed at their Immortality as well. Marius had told her the mirror would be in his office, and as he was the leader of these Immortals, it only made sense that he would have others of his kind around him.

"Ambassador Delenn of Minbar. Ms. Lyta Alexander. I must say, you certainly have a proper sense of timing. Had you not appeared when you did, I dare say I would have been bored to tears listening to the Council squabble over something even more mundane. But I forget my manners. Allow me to present Marcus Constantine and Nefertiri. Marcus serves as operational commander for all Lunar forces, and Nefertiri is a Presidential Advisor."

"It is an honor and a pleasure to see you again Marius. As your President has so well remembered, I am Delenn of Minbar, though I am no longer an Ambassador for my people. Ms. Lyta Alexander, and her companion Byron. We have come through the mirror with a request. John sends his regards, and regrets that he could not accompany us this time.

"As you are aware, Marius, Miss Alexander and others like her are telepaths. They came to the Interstellar Alliance seeking a world to call their own, but, whatever world we may give them, they would always be hunted by the Psi Corps. Lyta suggested the mirror, which, to be perfectly honest, I had forgotten all about."

"I see. How many refugees are we talking about here?"

"There are a few dozen telepaths now hiding on Babylon 5, with more and more arriving every day. The Psi Corps have sent teams of blood hounds to track them down and return them forcibly to the fold."

"Though I came from a time when slavery was commonplace, it is a practice I abhor. On my authority, they can stay here if they wish. But you must understand what our situation is before you begin to send anyone through the mirror. The Alliance is presently involved in a war that stretches across our galaxy. To date, we have not yet fully engaged the enemy. But where you had Vorlons seeking to create order and Shadows seeking to create chaos, we have Anubis and the Cylons. Anubis is a Goa'uld, a race of parasitic aliens that prefer human hosts. The human body is utterly subjugated by the parasite, but the human mind lives on and bears witness to all the atrocities the body carries out in the name of the Goa'uld. These aliens fancy themselves as Gods. They came to a primitive Earth ten thousand years ago and took advantage of the primitive peoples there. They adopted the personas of the many Gods worshipped at the time, and enslaved whole tribes and nations in their name. Earth has been at war with the Goa'uld for some ten years now. There is much more to this story, but I'm only trying to give you an idea of what is here.

"Our other enemy is a race of cybernetic creatures called the Cylons. They don't have a God Complex. They want one simple thing. The complete and utter extermination of all life unlike their own in the universe.

The Human Race in general has been at war with the Goa'uld for close on ten thousand years, ever since we kicked them off our home world. But our ancestors buried the Gate that allowed them to travel to our world, and it remained buried until 1928 when an archaeological expedition to the Giza Plateau uncovered it. It took almost seventy years for us to decipher its secrets and to re-awaken the Goa'uld to our presence. Now, our two enemies have formed an alliance. They have one goal in mind, and that is the extermination of all humanoid life.

"The other thing I must tell you is as you recall, when we first met, we had no telepaths among us. That has now changed. The majority of the telepaths among us are in the medical sciences, though one serves as the executive officer aboard the _John F. Kennedy_, which is a _President_-class Carrier. Psi Corps trained you to be the living version of a truth serum, but you don't have to be that here. All I ask is that you take some time to get acclimated to your new environs before choosing a profession. You will be given citizenship in the Immortal Confederation."

"How do we know you won't try to enslave us or turn us into weapons?"

"The truth is, you don't know that. None of us here will open our minds to you unless you ask nicely first. The fact is that the contents of our minds would overwhelm your senses. Yes, you've been in the minds of many mortals, Mr. Byron. But you've never been in the mind of an Immortal. By the standards of our race, the three of us here are among the elders of our kind, having lived well past the age of one thousand years. Those of us over a thousand years in age are considered to be the more stable of our kind. Do you realize what I'm saying, sir? Inside my own mind are close to twenty-six hundred years of memories. Miss Alexander can tell you what it is like to touch the mind of an Immortal. Can't you?"

"You have no reason to trust him, Byron. But I do trust him. The Vorlons created us, our kind, telepaths. But the Vorlons looked up to you as something better than they. Even the Shadows did the same."

Byron's eyes went wide at that comment. Vorlons and Shadows looked up to this man?

"No, Miss Alexander. It was not me they looked up to. It was Tok'Ra, our father-creator, the one whom both the Vorlons and the Shadows called the First Teacher. The Goa'uld whom we fight, Anubis, was once a creature like Tok'Ra. But Anubis did things that were abhorrent to the very nature of the Ancients and so they cast him out from their domain. Unfortunately, he did not return all the way to our plane of existence and he is trapped somewhere between. He can however, affect things on our plane. He wants us, all of us, to bow down to him, to serve him. You asked me how you can be sure we won't enslave you? It's not us you have to worry about Byron. It's the Goa'uld. For if we lose this war, they will certainly take your kind as hosts. You have a gift of telepathy, but the Goa'uld will open your gifts to telekinesis, and the universe will be forever changed."

"I was a Psi Cop in the Corps. Is there a place for me?"

"There is. I will introduce you to Mako, Luna's First Protector. I'm sure he will find a place for you in the Protectorate Division. In fact, if you are interested in starting right away, there is a problem on Earth. There is a conspiracy there against Immortals and Colonials specifically, and against all alien life in general. The man who would become President is advocating an isolationist policy. That is something that no one on Earth truly wants, but it is something that may come to pass. As I speak, one of our Protectors is down on Earth trying to get to the bottom of the conspiracy and trying to bring the men responsible for sixteen deaths to justice. A telepathic scan probably wouldn't hold up in court, but we have no laws against it. I was going to send one of our Betazed telepaths there, but as a person with law enforcement experience, you may be better suited to this particular case."

"The Protector on Earth, is he also a man with law enforcement experience?"

"Yes. Jacob Sheridan has been a Texas Ranger since the middle 1800's. Luna's First Protector was formerly a US Marshall, and had served in that capacity since the Agency's inception in 1789. But there are so few Immortals that have served in law enforcement capacities that at the moment, those are the only two with any sort of background in the law. Something we hope to change eventually."

"I shall help you this one time. Then I will evaluate my options."

"Fair enough, Byron. Actually, more than fair. Do you have any other skills where we might be able to place you?"

"I'm well rated in a _Starfury_ fighter. Almost all Psi Cops are."

"Excellent! If you do not wish to stay in our Protectorate section, then a position at the Lunar Academy is available to you as well."

"Marius, you mentioned Betazed telepaths. Are they human?"

"Yes, Miss Alexander, they are. Betazed is a member world in the United Federation of Planets, one of the universes we traveled to after yours. They are completely humanoid, with a few minor differences in terms of organ placement. To put it in terms you might better understand, they are to us as the Centauri are to you. But with one small detail of a difference. All of the inhabitants on Betazed, all six billion, are telepathic."

"Oh my."

"I had a feeling you might say that. So, are we in agreement? You may come here if you wish. You must settle on Luna first and learn our ways, but afterwards you will be free to emigrate to any Alliance world of your choosing."

"How many member races are there in this Alliance?"

"There are seven permanent members on the ruling council, and several dozen associate members. They are, in no particular order, the Tau'ri, Colonial Mars, Immortal Luna, the Asgard, the Nox, the Furlings, and the Tollan. One of our first associate worlds is Kelowna, which on a scale of development is at a point equivalent to early 20th century Earth. Just so you know, the Tau'ri is how the rest of the galaxy refer to the inhabitants of Earth."

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_**1700 Hours EST**_

_**Luna**_

_**Office of the President**_

Two things weighed heavily on his mind; the conversation earlier with Mako, and the appearance at this time of Delenn, Lyta, and Byron. One more thing to add to the list of problems. But first, and foremost, there was Senator Robert Kinsey of Maryland.

Another thing to add to his ever growing list of worries. For a man who wants to be President of the United States, this Kinsey fellow sure was in all the bad stuff up to the very ends of what little hair he has. Perhaps it was time to lend his support to Jack Ryan? Lend his support openly, as it were. Marius spent a few minutes on the intercom speaking with the shipyard director asking for a few special cargo shuttles and was told that design, being as simple as it was as it had no weapons, could be ready in a few days time. That would give him time to get his other gifts ready for the President and for the United States. Gifts that would hopefully take some of the wind out of Kinsey's sails.

He spent another few minutes talking with Mitch Guerra, the head of the design bureau, asking him whether they could convert one of the soon-to-be-finished _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers into a hospital ship, or whether Mitch preferred to build something from scratch. There was a design in the _Halsey_'s database of a Starfleet medical ship, but Marius was unsure if that would work for them or not. Mitch assured him that the Starfleet ship would work just as easily as converting a battlecruiser to their needs. He pointed out that it would be easier to build the medical ship from the ground up than to convert a _Prometheus_ ship to the task. Marius left him to the job, and asked his aide to arrange a meeting with President Ryan for that evening. Marius also passed along a request from Colonel O'Neill for construction of a prototype SA-43 _Hammerhead_ single seat fighter. Apparently he'd been impressed by the fighters the 58th flew. He spent the next two hours in his office, tweaking the medical hologram program to resemble something less arrogant than it was.

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_**1900 hours, EST**_

_**White House, Oval Office**_

The transporter beam left him just outside the Oval Office where he was expected by the Secret Service. Traveling by transporter was so much easier than coming here by shuttle, especially since the new shuttle designs they'd brought back were still days away from being implemented.

Marius raised his arms so that the Secret Service could search him quickly. He did it as a courtesy to them, as generally speaking the leader of another national government would not be subjected to this type of search. But some small boxes had materialized along side him. These were gifts for the President and the people of the United States, he explained.

One of the agents showed him into the Oval Office. Jack Ryan was sitting at his desk, looking probably like Marius had looked some hours ago, frustrated by the sheer amounts of papers that needed his signature.

"Mr. President."

"Mr. President."

"Maybe before one of us gets confused, we should switch to first names?"

"Works for me, Marius. You know, you had me worried when you disappeared like you did. I thought I'd finally met someone who understands just how frustrating this job can be, then you go off and vanish! I've read your reports. I guess you had a lot of fun out there?"

"Probably more than I should admit to Jack. But before I get to the gifts I brought back for you, I have some rather interesting news. Is there anyway you could get Mr. Van Damm, and I think also Director Murray. It will concern them both, eventually."

"Ellen, would you get Director Murray on the phone for me? And ask Arnie to come in here for a bit."

"Of course Mr. President."

A few minutes later, the phone call to Director Dan Murray of the FBI had been re-routed to the President's desk, and Arnold van Damm was seated in the office across from Marius.

"Mr. President."

"Dan. I've got Arnie and President Marius in the office with me. Marius claims to have some information that is of interest to you and me and Arnie. Go ahead Marius."

"Mr. Murray. You are aware of the recent rash of beheadings around the country, yes?"

"Yes. The FBI is coordinating with your man Sheridan. I believe they picked up a man in Dallas before he could kill another person."

"Yes. My Chief Protector Mako made his report to me earlier today. He also gave me a nice little tidbit of information that I feel compelled to pass along. Do you recall, Mr. Murray, the testimony of Agent Mulder in relation to a man named Krycek?"

"Yes I do."

"It seems Mr. Krycek visited Protector Sheridan to pass along some information regarding the string of brutal beheadings. While we may have gotten lucky once before and decapitated, as it were, the Consortium leadership, it seems new players and a new leader has sprung up in place of the old. Krycek told Sheridan, though he had no proof to offer, that a new player, once considered a minor minion, has now taken over the leadership duties as the head of the Consortium. He has ordered men to stage these beheadings in order to cast the blame on Immortals, or hunters of Immortals. It is an attempt to drive the American people, and to a lesser extent the people of the world, into a panic over our presence amongst you. I am told that this one man is in a position of power in your government, though again we have as yet no proof against him. Though I would imagine that he as yet does not control all of the former foot soldiers of the Consortium, he is making a bold play to bring that power under his control. Mr. Murray, Mr. President, we must move quickly to put this man out of business. Unfortunately, neither I nor any other Immortal can interfere with this situation as it may end up proving this man's cause to the people of this country."

"Who is this man?"

"Mr. Van Damm, the man in question is Senator Robert Kinsey. I believe he is also running for President, yes?"

"Kinsey! That _sonofabitch_!"

"Calm down Jack. This actually helps us to defuse him before he gains any more momentum in the polls."

"How so Arnie?"

"I can see why Immortals should not be the ones to capture him. The FBI needs to work closely with their man to bring this new Consortium to justice before they establish themselves too deeply. It took Agent Mulder and his partner far too long to bring down the last group, even though they had no real help from the government until the end. No, we need to attack this problem head on and I mean now, Jack."

"Dan. I want you to work with this Protector Sheridan. Give him all the resources he needs to bring this new Consortium down. Maybe we can bring that shadow group down once and for all."

"President Marius, where is Sheridan at the moment?"

"Mako indicated that his team had just captured one of the alleged Consortium foot soldiers in Dallas, before he could behead his latest victim. I imagine he's still in that area."

"Good. I'm going to ask Pat O'Day to meet with him. Pat is one of the FBI's roving inspectors."

"I think I'll ask Mary-Pat if we can borrow Clark for a bit. Between the three of them working on this case, they should have it wrapped up in no time."

"My thanks to you Mr. President, Director Murray. Personally, I have no wish whatsoever for a man like Kinsey to become President."

"Get back to me Dan, when you have something new on this case."

"Will do. Bye now."

Marius stood up for a moment to retrieve the boxes he'd brought with him.

"Arnie, I think you're going to like what I have in these boxes. Jack, uhm don't take this wrong way, but is your wife in the Residence?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I'd like a doctor's perspective when I give you this next gift. Maybe, if he's available, your Surgeon-General as well."

"Arnie, see if you can get Dr. Alexandre over here as quietly as possible, ok?"

"I'll get on it. Ellen!"

"Jack, I'm afraid that whether your wife or Dr. Alexandre are cleared to hear about my adventures or not, that I'm going to have to tell them at least a little of what happened to us so they can understand where these gifts came from and how to best use them."

"Well, your mission is classified, but with so many of your crew back on Earth now, I don't guess that it will stay that way for long. So tell them what you have to, but not everything if you can help it."

"I'll do my best, Jack."

Thirty minutes of chit-chat about his adventures later, Dr. Alexandre and Cathy Ryan walked into the Oval Office.

"Cathy? You remember President Marius? Dr. Alexandre, this is Marius, President of the Immortal Council."

"Dr. Ryan, a pleasure to see you again. Dr. Alexandre, a pleasure to meet you sir."

"Is there an emergency, Mr. President?"

"Nothing like that, Dr. Alexandre. Marius was just about to reveal a few gifts for us and he requested yours and Cathy's presence."

"I'm sure you two are aware that I was aboard the _Halsey_ when she disappeared, yes? Good. It doesn't matter how the three months missing was explained in the press. It's simply not true. First of all, while we were only gone three months by your reckoning, by those of us aboard the _Halsey_, a little over three years passed. Tok'Ra, the Ancient, had a few errands for us to do for him. Our journey took us to a number of different places, but only two are critically important to what I am about to divulge. The first dimension we visited, and I do mean dimension, was similar enough to our own. Tok'Ra had us dimension hopping for awhile, trying to finish up some long overdue business of the Ancients. In any case, the first place we visited was similar enough to our own. It was a universe of the year 2260. Seeing as they were almost three hundred years ahead of us, one would think they would be definitively more advanced than us. And in many respects, they were. But where most authors like to paint the future as shiny and rosy and Utopian-like, this future was dark and dismal. They even had a version there of Kinsey, who went from being a Senator to Vice-President. He became the President of the Earth Alliance after he assassinated his predecessor. But that's beside the point.

"On these sets of digital discs, are the full medical knowledge base of that universe. You won't unfortunately, find a cure for the common cold in there, nor for all forms of cancer, but you will find cures for a few of our more troublesome diseases. AIDS and SARS come to mind.

"The rest of my gifts to you come from the second universe we visited. Again, it was quite a bit ahead of us, both chronologically, and technologically. It was the waning years of the twenty-fourth century for that Earth, and it was the dream of all those writers I mentioned before. Bright and shiny and rosy and almost a paradise. But before you begin to wonder how they did that, let me just say that while they did have a President of a United Earth, the form of government was something akin to communism, though they didn't call it that. Call it communism with a middle class. Everyone worked for the state and the state provided everything. Hell, Jack, they'd even done away with money on Earth. I just can't imagine a society where no one gets paid for what they do!

"But I digress. Dr. Ryan, this is for you, and this is for you Dr. Alexandre. The device you are holding in your hand is called a Medical Tricorder. It's a hand held sensing device, that when tied into a computer, can be used to diagnose problems in a patient. The device has a detachable medical sensor that you run over the patient's body. The results will display on the unit, or it can be routed to a computer or both. I've taken the liberty of providing two laptop computers that incorporate the program that accepts data from these devices.

"This next item, and I'll use that word very loosely, is, well, it's hard to explain. Let me show you."

Marius stood up and held a small device at around shoulder height in mid-air. He pushed a couple of buttons on the front pad of the device and a woman appeared!

"President Marius. Is there an emergency that requires my services?"

"No Doctor. I am merely showing you off, as it were. Allow me to make some introductions. The man seated behind the desk is Jack Ryan, President of the United States. The man in the chair there is Arnold van Damm, President Ryan's Chief of Staff. This lovely lady is Dr. Caroline Ryan, wife to the President, and a professor of ophthalmological surgery. This is Dr. Pierre Alexandre, Surgeon General of the United States and a specialist of infectious diseases. Lady and gentlemen, may I present Doctor Hansen."

"Mr. President. Doctors. How may I be of service?"

"Annika, explain to these good people your function, if you will."

"Of course. I am an emergency medical hologram. My core programming has access to a library of medical techniques and knowledge that spans the entire history of the Federation and of all of the member races of the Federation. This knowledge has been further augmented by the medical data of the Borg. I have been programmed also to teach, to share this information with you Dr. Ryan, and with you Dr. Alexandre. Tell me, Dr. Ryan, as a surgeon of ophthalmology, is it currently possible to give a blind person the ability to see?"

"No, it is not."

"Using an ocular implant, that can now be possible. I will teach you how to employ this technology so that you may give others the gift of sight. And you, Dr. Alexandre, I am told are seeking cures for certain virii that plague human kind of this world. Specifically, Marius has informed me of the AIDS and Ebola families of virii. The research that I have access to, tells me that it was a vaccine for the Ebola virus that led to a vaccine for the AIDS virus. Both diseases are tied to one another, as it was discovered in the years before the third world war, that both reside in the same host animal."

"What! Oh my. It would explain so much though!"

"I take it you two doctors like my present to you?"

"If what she says is true, then the ability to give sight to sightless eyes makes whatever you endured on your journey worth it!"

"I would like to speak at length with Doctor Hansen."

"As would I."

"Of course. Please feel free to do so The Immortal Council has recognized her medical qualifications and if not here then she is considered a qualified and licensed physician on Luna. But remember the limitations of your emitter, Annika. It will need to recharge once per day."

"Of course, Mr. President."

Why don't you two follow me? We'll go to my office to talk."

After the three doctors had left the room, Jack spoke a bit.

"Any more gifts in there?"

"Just one Mr. President. And it is one the Immortal Council will be asking for a patent of tomorrow. Hopefully, it will be approved. After which, we will begin sales of them. But you and Arnie will have the first units. This is a portable food replicator. It's a small device really, even with the power and nutrient packs. I'm going to advise you to not smell the nutrient pack, as it's really not at all pleasant. The ingredients are tasteless protein sequences in a liquid mix of various nutrients laced with vitamins and minerals. Any commercial food company in the US can produce this once we share the recipe with them. It's what the device does with that pack, that will amaze you. So, either of you two gentlemen hungry? Perhaps, something to drink?"

"I've been craving a good Reuben sandwich all day, just haven't had the time to get to the deli. And fries of course!"

"Of course Arnie! Jack?"

"Oh maybe a decent Philly? With fries also."

"You want coffee with that?"

"Yes."

"Sure."

"Computer, one Reuben sandwich, on rye with Russian dressing and a side order of steak fries. One Philly steak sandwich on a hoagie, with a side order of seasoned fries. One cheeseburger sub, with a side of potato skins. Two coffees, black, with sugar and cream on the side. One raktajeeno, full size, and two raktajeenos, sample size."

"What are you going on about…"

Neither Arnie nor Ryan spoke for a few seconds as they watched food and drinks materialize out of thin air. Marius played waiter and passed out their food and drinks, though he was waiting for their expressions for their first taste of the Klingon coffee.

"How do you like the food?"

"You'll tell us how this is done?"

"If you tell me how you like the food?"

"I think this Reuben is about the best thing I've tasted in a long while."

"Same goes for this Philly. And the fries are the perfect balance of crispiness and softness. So what is this thing?"

"This is a food replicator. As long as the power pack is charged, and the nutrient pack is available, it will create anything you ask of it. From the most complex meals, to the simple staple foods. And just between us, if the nutrient packs aren't available, one can easily substitute just about any green leaf type plant. I could walk out those doors, grab some grass, and feed it to this thing, and it will put out something simple. The nutrient packs enable it to produce the more complex meals. All this means, is that this is a practicable way to end hunger in the world."

"Do you realize what you've just said?"

"Yes sir, I do. But I have a few other things I'd like to discuss with you and Arnie, if I may?"

"A cure for AIDS, a way to end world hunger. What's next up your sleeve?"

"I know that there are recorders in this room. In every room for that matter. Would it be possible to turn them off for just a few minutes?"

Jack stared at the man, his eyes hard for an instant as he contemplated the request.

"Andrea, do as the man says. Five minutes, no more."

"But Mr. President?"

"Please. I trust him."

"Very well, Mr. President."

She'd do as he asked, but she wouldn't like it. And in any case, there was always one recorder that couldn't be turned off, no matter the reason.

"I thank you for that Jack. What I'm about to say, I'd like kept between the three of us for the moment. Frankly, Jack, I'm worried about Kinsey. I know of him from his exploits in trying to shut down the SGC and in trying to move the SGC to NID control. A man like him, in charge of all the technologies now at our disposal, would be a very bad thing for the universe in general, and for Earth in particular. Can you imagine that he wouldn't use our advanced technologies to enforce his will on other nations of Earth? I don't want to risk that. So, as soon as you're ready, I'll stand by your side in a joint press conference as we announce the gifts I've already mentioned. You can point to these items as proof that our alliance is a good one. Kinsey would have the US isolate itself from the universe. Regardless of what has happened in the past, the Goa'uld will not be appeased by our simply burying the gate. They want us destroyed. They want our planet gone from the stars.

"That said, in the coming weeks, I'll join you often for joint conferences as I offer the US and the world a few other devices. The first will be a cold fusion reactor, which will give an average of ten to twenty percent more power per unit, than the current standard fission-based reactor. The plus side is that no harmful radiation is produced which means no harmful wastes to bury. We won't give you that technology outright. We will however, lease the units to you at a reasonable yearly fee. We'll also invite your scientists up to Luna, where we will be establishing an instructional facility, so that Earth scientists can learn how to build these reactors.

"After that, we'll give you something that will soon become a common item on Luna, and we hope on Mars as well. Here's a prototype of the personal identification card for Earth. Notice it's blue, as compared to Lunar gray and Martian red. The cards can be voice imprinted, DNA coded, password encrypted, and even retina coded to a specific user. They can be used for identification purposes, as a license of any kind or of multiple kinds. They can store a person's entire medical history. They can even be used as a passport. The small screen on the face of the card can be used to show multiple images of the card bearer to insure that the bearer is whomever they say they are. It can even project a small holographic and three dimensional image so that a security officer can see the entire person as it were. For the purpose of securing our borders, it's quite an ingenious little device. And since it can be encoded to hold multiple credit card accounts, and multiple bank account numbers, I think that it could replace a lot of excess baggage that we tend to carry around in our wallets.

"The Immortal Council has also approved a number of ventures into Earth and Martian markets for a new type of computer system, which we will sell at a very low price. I do have a responsibility to keep the Immortal Council in the black, you know. In any case, the new computer systems will utilize crystals for data storage. The crystals can be encoded in all of the same ways as the PIC, but will store approximately five hundred thousand terabytes of information at a transfer rate of fifty gigabytes per millisecond.

"Now as you are aware, the shipyards at Luna and Mars are currently producing ships for our combined navies. We are in the process of adding two more shipyards at the primary Lunar facility. They will be smaller than normal. One will be set to produce fighter craft, for eventual delivery first to the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, and second to those member nations that these five agree to. The third shipyard will begin production of a commercial class of ship. It will have enough room to store up to sixty cubic meters of cargo. We will not give it any major armaments, but, it will have several low powered lasers and a number of external grappling claws. In this way, the ship can be used by entrepreneurs to mine asteroids and bring the raw ore back to a station for sale or processing. These will be relatively small ships at some sixty meters in length, and a minimum crew of three, though it would probably benefit whoever owns such a ship to have a larger crew.

"The instructional facility on Luna will train pilots, navigators, and engineers for service to anyone owning one of these ships. All trainees will receive additional instruction in first aid, and the use of the mining lasers and grappler claws. If anything, Jack, it will give a chance to all of those unemployed in the US.

For corporate clients, those with substantially deeper pockets that wish to explore beyond just the asteroid belt or the planets in this system, we will offer a slightly larger class of ship. The _Star_-class long range scout will be approximately ninety meters in length with a primary crew of seven and a secondary compliment of thirty to forty. We plan to outfit them with two small short range shuttles, an even half-dozen unmanned aerial recon vehicles (UAV), and two heavily modified APC type vehicles. I would suggest that any company wishing to purchase one of these ships recruit a diplomat to serve aboard them. We don't want any problems when it comes to dealing with other races, especially since we do plan to place light weapons onto the scouts.

"This next items, a derivative of the Ancient's military technologies, are the System Gates. As soon as we've beaten Anubis and his allies back to give us some breathing room, the Alliance will begin reactivating the 'Gates in nearby planetary systems. Each commercial and military vessel will be assigned a gate use code, which will allow us to track which vessels are in which system. Military ships don't have to use the 'Gates as they will have their own FTL drives. Commercial ships, however, will be made to use the Gate System.

"Lastly, the engineering staff on Luna is currently building a new reactor to power all of our needs. It is called a quantum singularity reactor, though reactor might be an inappropriate term. The good thing is that we can feed it garbage, literally garbage, and it will produce energy for us. It works by creating an artificial black hole that will accept any form of matter and convert it to energy. The conversion process uses one hundred percent of the matter to create an equal amount of energy. One of the by-products of this type of reactor is anti-matter, which we will use for the warheads of the torpedoes used by the fleet. Of course, the best part is best for everyone at the moment. Mr. President, the Immortal Council wishes to buy all of the nuclear waste currently in US inventories. After that, we will begin purchasing the garbage produced by your biggest cities first. Anything that currently gets buried in landfills, we will use as fuel for the reactor. I think, that idea, in of itself, will brighten the days of a lot of environmentalists."

"That's, uhm, that's..."

"Record this moment, Jack. Arnie is speechless."

"Never thought I'd see the day, Arnie, where you have nothing to say."

"You do realize, Jack, that Marius just fulfilled a dream of almost everyone on Earth?"

"How so?"

"After millennia of occupying only one world, we now have the ability to explore other places, to plant colonies on other worlds, to expand beyond this one little ball of dirt, and to take our rightful place out among the stars."

"Never figured you for a philosopher Arnie."

"I've always been one. Can't survive in the business of politics without having some sort of philosophy to fall back on."

"Too true. So how should we play this Arnie?"

"I think we should bring Marius down in a couple days, by shuttle into Andrews, just like any other foreign dignitary. Then we'll hold 'high-level' trade talks, after which we hold a press conference outside where you, Jack, will announce the successful completion of trade talks with the Immortal Council. The thing for the blind should lead off the announcement, then the device for world hunger, and maybe the fusion reactor. Finish it off with the AIDS cure. I'll bet that your approval will jump at least twenty points, and that Kinsey's will drop by at least as many.

"Then, in a week or two, you and Marius can hold another conference, announcing the opening of the Lunar University, and the offering of private vessels for sale to entrepreneurs. Which, by the way, you never did say just how much these are going to cost."

"Well, the corporate model is going to cost around ten grand, and thirty with weapons. The individual model will sell for around a thousand. You do realize, gentlemen, that just one full cargo load of raw ore, will pay off the debt of the owners of the ships? Further more, if an individual doesn't have a grand for the ship, we'll provide them with one, after they complete training, and after they agree to give us their first two full cargo loads of raw ore. And though a lot of companies will probably opt to save twenty grand and not arm their ships, if they want to purchase gate activation codes, we'll only sell them armed ships."

"Damned reasonable, I'd say Jack."

"Very damned reasonable Marius. Anything else up your sleeves?"

"One final thing, Jack. All the traveling we did, we met a number of races that were both more advanced and less advanced than us in some respects. The _Halsey_ may have started out with the F-302 fighters for her squadrons, but we've since upgraded in the field to the SA-32A _Thunderbolt_ _Starfury_. I've ordered a prototype of a new fighter built, one that the military of that particular universe called an SA-43 _Hammerhead_. It's a single seat air and space superiority fighter. As soon as the prototype is unveiled to the world, we're going to offer it to the various militaries of Earth. In fact, if they accept it, it will be a fighter that can be produced here on Earth, perhaps as a joint venture between the various defense contractors around the globe."

"It's a fighter then?"

"Actually it's a multi-role aircraft, sir. Fighter, interceptor, attack, bomber, search and rescue, even a scout. The main armament is a nose mounted gimballed rail gun, and an aft turret designed to auto-track and engage any fighter stupid enough to get on its six. Since it has hard-points for six externally mounted missiles, bomb racks, or equipment pods, it makes it an attractive package for the various militaries, or at least we think so. In any case, if the governments go for it, it will bring a substantial amount of employment to some sectors, and will allow us to introduce the manufacturing sectors to the wonders of industrial replicators."

The three men chatted for awhile longer, then broke up to close the day. Jack Ryan had agreed to a reception to be held the next evening to honor some of the men and women who had served aboard the _Halsey_ and her fleet. Marius took a transporter back to Luna to get a much-needed few hours of sleep. He awoke after several hours feeling somewhat refreshed. The first thing he did was to check the status of the shipyards. The hull work on the _Halsey_ was nearing completion, and new hull armor sections were being laid as quickly as they came out of production onto the _Kuznetsov_ and the _Galactica_. As soon as those three vessels were finished, the new hull armor would be placed over existing armor on the _Daedalus_ and the _Caprica_. The next two strike carriers, the _Nelson_ and the _Spruance_ were still under construction and would receive only the updated armor.

It was the internal updates that were getting bogged down. The replicator 'farm' on Luna was operating at full capacity, building duotronic systems and all of the associated infrastructure, but as it was, only the ships of the _Halsey_ task force sported the new systems, though the _Raleigh_ and the _Perseus_ were almost finished in that respect. There were enough fighters presently in the system such that any attackers could be held at bay until the bigger ships could enter the fray. For the time being, it was felt best by the Alliance and the three in-system members to keep their ships at home.

----------------------------------------

_**Annapolis, Maryland**_

_**Home of Margaret Scully**_

Having finally finished all of their paperwork and reports, Mulder and Scully had opted to travel to Earth to close out their accounts and take care of other business. Both would be tendering their official resignations to the FBI come morning, but for now, Scully really just wanted to see her mother. She also wanted to announce her upcoming marriage to Mulder. Scully rang the doorbell fully expecting her mother to answer, but her sister-in-law answered instead.

"Tara!"

"Dana! Come in! Hello Mr. Mulder."

"Tara? Where's mom?"

"Your mom and Bill went out to the store. They should be back shortly. Are you all done with your latest assignment?"

"Assignment?"

"Yeah. Mom said you and your partner were out on assignment somewhere. She didn't know where. At least that's what your boss told your mom."

"Really. Hmm. Ok. Well, why don't we wait for mom and Bill before I bring up the news we have? I'd rather only tell it once. In the meantime, how's my favorite nephew doing?"

The two women talked for about half an hour before the front door opened again to the sounds of Margaret Scully and William Jr. coming into the front room.

"Dana! When did you get back into town?"

"Hi Mom! I missed you! Hi Billy!"

"Dana, when did you get back into town?"

"Mulder and I flew in about two hours ago. We're only going to be in town about a week."

"Another assignment? So soon?"

"I think you all had better sit down for this."

"Dana? What's wrong?"

"Nothing Mom. Mulder and I have some news we want to share with everyone. But first, I want to know who told you we were out on assignment?"

"I tried to call you several weeks ago and when I couldn't find you, I called your boss, AD Skinner. He said you were out on an assignment and couldn't be reached."

"Well, I guess the part about not be reachable was true. But let me ask you for an opinion? What do you think about the existence of alien life now? Especially in light of President Ryan's disclosure some months ago?"

"Well they're certainly not the little green men from Mars we've come to expect from your partner, Dana."

"Gee thanks Bill."

"Shut up Mulder. If it weren't for you, Dana would be in a normal job, not traipsing after you all over the country!"

"Billy, if it weren't for Mulder, I wouldn't have had the opportunity I had about three months ago."

"What kind of opportunity, Dana?"

"For the last three months, I have been serving as Chief Medical Officer aboard the AIS _Halsey_. Mulder was also aboard as Chief of the Diplomatic Section."

"The _Halsey_? The Alliance carrier that went missing for three months? That _Halsey_?"

"Yes, Mom, that _Halsey_. Apparently we performed well enough to be asked to stay on with the Alliance. Both Mulder and I will be moving up to Luna in a couple of weeks, after we've taken care of business down here. I've been offered the post of Chief of Medical Research on Luna, and I've accepted. Mulder will be going into a teaching position at the Alliance Academy, helping the new recruits adapt to life with multiple species. We've both also been seconded to the Alliance Protectorate Bureau."

"So you're going to be working with these aliens, Dana?"

"Bill. These so-called aliens are very similar to you and me. Well, with the exception of the Asgard. Even the Klingons are more humanoid than the Asgard."

"Are you telling us that you've met these aliens?"

"Met them. Served alongside them. Fought alongside them."

Mulder's cell phone rang and he moved off to take the call. He came back a couple of minutes later.

"Who was it Mulder?"

"That was Marius, Scully, informing me of an attendance required formal reception tomorrow evening at the White House. He said your family was also invited."

"Oh."

"The White House, Dana?"

"Who's Marius?"

"Yes, Mom. The White House. Billy, Marius is President of the Immortal Council."

----------------------------------------

_**Next Evening**_

_**1600 Pennsylvania Ave.**_

Dana had promised to pick up her mother at her home, so that they could all ride together to the event. Mulder was driving and fidgeting over his collar. The formal dress uniforms of the Alliance had no neckties, much to his relief, but the collars were a different matter as they were stiff from lack of use. It was a uniform of midnight blue, with rank insignia on the shoulders and unit insignia on the left arm. The flag-patch of the Alliance rode gracefully on his right arm. A red sash made of silk was tied about his waste under a belt of leather to which a sword would be attached. He drove without the sword for the moment, as it was most uncomfortable.

Both he and Dana had only just returned from the Embassy where their uniforms had been sent to. After borrowing a room in which to change, the two of them had borrowed an Embassy vehicle, a Ford Expedition, to make the short drive to Annapolis to pick up Scully's family. Margaret Scully thought that both Dana and Fox made an impressive pair in their formal uniforms. Bill Scully, however, took more than a few minutes to get used to the idea of his 'little' sister in uniform. As they pulled into the parking area at the White House, they saw an ISSAPC parked at the far end. Apparently Marius and company had already arrived. Entrance to the structure was easy enough, and their first task was to get through the receiving line. At the head of the line was Jack Ryan, President of the United States. Next to him, his wife. Next to her, Vice-President Jackson and his wife.

"Mr. President."

"Major Scully. Welcome to the White House."

"Thank you sir. May I present, sir, my mother, Margaret Scully, and my brother and his wife, William and Tara Scully."

"A pleasure to meet you Commander Scully. You must be very proud of your sister."

"To be honest sir, I had no idea she'd joined the military."

There was a sit down dinner for the guests during which there were a few short speeches by the four heads of state in the room; the US, Immortal Luna, the UK, and Russia.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States."

"Please, keep your seats. I promise to keep this as short as possible, and I'm sure you'll be grateful.

"There are many things I would like to say this evening, but those things would best be served in a more political arena. You are not here to hear me make political promises. We're all here tonight to pay our respects to two people, to congratulate them and to thank them for the tireless years of dedication to duty and hard work that resulted in the downfall of an organization that was bent on overthrowing the numerous governments of our planet.

"In 1986, Fox William Mulder joined the FBI. He had a degree in psychology from Oxford University and because of that degree he was put to work profiling serial killers and other such criminals. By the end of 1991, Agent Mulder had been assigned to a section of the FBI known as the Paranormal Division. His mandate? To answer the unanswerable. Even then, at the very beginning, there were hints of a massive conspiracy that stretched across national borders. It took him more than a decade to bring those responsible to justice. He is a man that never tires of the pursuit of the truth.

"He had help in his endeavor from another FBI agent. Dr. Dana Katherine Scully joined the Paranormal Division in 1992. She was assigned to give a scientific credence to Agent Mulder's work. Clinically trained as a forensic pathologist, she was well-equipped to give alternative scientific explanations to the many odd subjects of their cases, from mutations found in human subjects, to mutations in non-human subjects.

"Though many of their fellow agents often outright laughed at their combined pursuit of the truth to the Conspiracy, laughing because Mulder believed in alien life, they never wavered from their pursuit of that truth.

"Now we know that aliens do indeed exist. The proof of the Conspiracy that sought to undermine the governments of the world came to light eventually. The proof that there are things on this world and on other worlds that defy explanation. Because neither Agent Mulder nor Agent Scully ever backed down from their pursuit of knowledge, they should be honored.

"Both of these fine people have given more for the cause of truth than they should have. We should have believed them when they told us of the Conspiracy. We should have believed them when they said aliens do indeed exist. But we didn't. Not at first in any case.

"If you would join me up here, I have a little something for you.

"Fox William Mulder, for you unending pursuit of knowledge and truth in the face of so many obstacles, I present you with the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

"Dana Katherine Scully, for your endless pursuit of truth and knowledge, for your heroism in the wake of experiments conducted on your person by this Conspiracy, I award you the Presidential Medal of Valor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for these two fine examples of humanity!"

Dana's mother beamed with pride at the award her daughter had just been given by President Jack Ryan. Neither Dana nor Fox knew why they had been invited to this evening's festivities, just that they had been asked to attend. The next to speak was Marius.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the Immortal Council."

"Good evening to one and all. Several months ago, I asked an energetic pair of Federal agents to join me on the maiden voyage of the _Admiral Halsey_, not because I thought they would be honored by the invitation, but because I felt they would bring a unique combination of talents and skill to a fine ship.

"As you know, the _Halsey_ was declared missing for a period of some three months. But time, and indeed the universe, is a fickle thing. Three months passed here on Earth, but to those of us on the _Halsey_, more than three years went by. Both of these fine agents came aboard the _Halsey_ with the rank of Major in the Alliance Military. Dr. Scully became our Chief Medical Officer, and Agent Mulder became the head of our Diplomatic Corps aboard the _Halsey_. Little did we know what we were destined to encounter in all the myriad places in the universe.

"Without Major Mulder's attention to detail, I daresay, we would have come back all but empty handed from our trials. We encountered so many different life forms and so many different governments, that without his keen insight into the base workings of the mind, we would have all been lost, long ago.

"Major Fox W. Mulder, for your fortitude in dealing with the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, with the Minbari Federation, the Narn Kah'Ri, the Centauri Imperial Government, and the Independent Babylon Station, for obtaining for the Alliance so many new technologies and treasures to behold, I present you with the Alliance Sash of Diplomatic Service.

"Major Fox W. Mulder, for your courage in the face of overwhelming numbers during the Battle for the Diamond, for your dedication to freedom for all species, I present you with the Alliance Sash of Distinguished Service, and the Alliance Dagger for Exemplary Service.

"Major Dana K. Scully, for your courage in the face of overwhelming odds during the Battle for the Diamond, for your unflappable bed-side manner during the battle at J25, and for your determination to free an enslaved species, the Alliance Sash of Distinguished Service, and the Alliance Staff of Valor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause if you please?"

After the presentations, there were cocktails while the guests in attendance mixed and mingled. Marius approached his two favorite Majors.

"Major Scully. Major Mulder. I'll bet you didn't expect these awards?"

"Nope!"

"I didn't expect anything like this at all, Admiral. Allow me to introduce you to my mother, Margaret Scully. And my brother and his wife, William and Tara."

"A pleasure Mrs. Scully. You must be very proud of your daughter."

"I am. Though I certainly didn't expect anything like this!"

"I've offered to Dana, and she has accepted, the position of Chief of Medical Research. The position would require her to relocate to Luna, and I know that this would be something of an inconvenience for you, so if you would want to, there is enough room on Luna for you as well."

"Mr. President, I, I. I don't know what to say."

"There's no need to give an answer now, Ma'am. The offer stands."

"Thank you sir."

"Please, call me Marco. Every time someone calls me Mr. President, I'm looking over my shoulder for Jack Ryan."

"Mr. President, why did my sister address you as Admiral?"

"Commander Scully I presume? Yes? Good. I serve as an Admiral for the Alliance. I was commander of the _Halsey_ Battle Group for her maiden voyage. For the moment, I am content to stick to a desk job, but given a chance, I will gladly take the helm of any of our ships. Do you also serve on a ship?"

"Executive Office of the USS _Nicholas_."

"That's a _Perry_-class frigate, if I'm not mistaken."

"You're not."

"You know, Commander, the Alliance has a desperate need for well trained bridge officers. At the moment, we have far more ships than we have command personnel for. Would you be interested in command of an Alliance vessel?"

"What about my status in the US Navy?"

"Well, we do have an exchange program in place, but commanding a space going vessel versus a sea going vessel, while similar in style, is still a vastly different thing."

"I see. And what sort of vessels does the Alliance field?"

"Do you prefer a small vessel or a large one?"

"Something comparable to my current assignment."

"Perry class vessels have what? Three hundred personnel or so?"

"That's about right. Less than 15 are officers with the rest being enlisted ranks."

"A comparable ship crew-wise would be the _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers, but in terms of fire-power, I'd have to say our new _Shark_-class destroyer escorts are the ticket for you. A crew of five officers and fifteen enlisted. But you can make your own choice in terms of ship and crew if you decide to accept the offer."

"And what of my family?"

"If you want to move them to Luna, well, housing is at a premium at the moment, until the new domes open. But once they do, you can move your family up there with you. The Main Dome houses all of the administrative offices. Dome Ryan has the housing sectors, leisure sectors, and education sectors. We're in the process of selecting new areas for dome construction. Luna is growing at the speed of light, and we just don't have the capacity at the moment to house everyone who wants to emigrate there. But how's this for an offer? Why don't you and your family come up to Luna to take a look around. See the facilities for yourself. Then, if you'd like, I'll give you a tour of our shipyards, and any and all vessels you'd care to see. If you like a particular ship, we could take a hop around the solar system and you can be better informed for a possible change of station?"

"It's a good offer Bill. You should think about it. Mulder and I are going to be Earth-side for another week or so, before going back to Luna. You could always come with us at that point."

"Just me? Or Tara and the kids too?"

"All of you. Mom too if she wants."

"Let me think about it. Talk to Tara some. I'll let you know Dana."

----------------------------------------

"Trying to steal more of our Naval officers, Marco?"

"Trying to build up a navy, Jack."

"I can understand that. Join me outside for a bit of fresh air?"

"Of course."

Four men went outside, and Jack Ryan made certain that no one would bother them for awhile. The Secret Service would make sure of that.

"Jack? I have a feeling you brought me out here for something in particular."

"Just because I asked these other two gentlemen to join us? Ok, you got me there. Tell me Marco, how desperate is the Alliance for trained personnel?"

"We have far more ships than we have trained personnel to man them. When the _Halsey_ went out on her maiden voyage, we borrowed almost all of our people from Earth. Now that we're back, a big percentage of those have rotated back Earth-side to their regular duties. We have troop carriers without troops. We have fighters without pilots. We have ships with no crews. At the moment, all of the ships in the Alliance fleet are operating at the bare minimum of staff levels, even with automation to the maximum level. But shy of openly recruiting those personnel from Earth or Mars or the other members of the Alliance, well, we're at a loss to do much for the moment."

"Which is why you were trying to recruit that Naval officer in there?"

"Well, that and the fact that Major Scully had expressed an interest in having all of her family on Luna."

"Once upon a time, the Russian navy was a force to be reckoned with. At the height of the Cold War, our Navy was among the top of its class. These days, it's all we can do as a country to keep even a fourth of our fleet operational. Too many of our military personnel have been subjected to reductions in force. The changeover to a capitalistic society has not been an easy one, and I daresay it will not be easy on my administration for some time to come. There are too many former Generals and Admirals who would like nothing better than to return to the days of old, when our military budget was more than half of the country's total budget. Our engineers and scientists are still known in the world for their earlier accomplishments, but with no budget to pursue new technologies, well, Russia faces a hard road ahead. Neither my country nor the United States can afford to field the militaries we once did. Today's battlefields are made more for surgical strike type units than raw firepower, though when necessary, we can deliver that as well."

"Well, speaking hypothetically here, how's this? Let's say that the Immortal Shipyards sub-contracts out some of our more pressing build orders? Say, for instance, the fighter contracts? If, for instance, we were to arrange for the US, the UK, and Russia to each build one type of fighter, that would bring funds into your countries, and it would encourage innovation. Once you become 'adept' at building the frontline fighters that the Alliance fields, we could begin talking about building other vessels, like the ISSAPC that my party came down in."

"Which fighters are we speaking of, hypothetically?"

"The _Hammerhead_, the _Mustang_, and the _Thunderbolt_. These three are fairly simple and straightforward in their construction, and all are capable of flight within an atmosphere. To pose a further idea, perhaps your three nations could create an agreement to share these new construction technologies. Since the shipyards on Luna could be freed from building fighters, we could then concentrate on building the capital ships. Some of the designs we have are easy to build, some are not.

"At the moment, gentlemen, we have a need for about one thousand bridge and command personnel. I'm talking officers here, not enlisted ratings. The fleet does not include the few _Prometheus_ class battlecruisers that we've built for the SGC, or the six colony ships we have as well. Those colony ships, by the way, will be used to help Earth set up colonies on some of the nearer stars. Each of those ships can carry up to five hundred colonists and all the equipment needed to setup the basic facilities.

"Now, I've looked extensively at the SGC's database of Gate equipped worlds, and oddly enough, the stars nearest to our own, say within a radius of seventy-five light years, don't have any worlds with Gates listed. Whether those stars don't have planets, or don't have planets capable of supporting life as we know it remains to be seen. The sooner we start other colonies, the better we'll be able to handle any major catastrophe here at home. Less chance of our entire species being wiped out too."

"Too true."

"You are fairly quiet, Your Highness."

"I've been asked by my government to field a question to you. The British Government would like to have a few vessels built for us, but we've seen what it cost the US to build even one _Prometheus_ vessel, and quite frankly, it's thought that such an expenditure would not be at all well received by our citizens."

"I can allay that fear, sir. It cost the USAF a lot of money to build one _Prometheus_. True. However, the first ship of any new class of vessel is always the most expensive and most time consuming to build. There is the fact that until recently, whatever trinium and naquadah stocks that were available were in short supply. Our mining operations of the asteroid belt have resulted in tremendous stockpiles of other metals, which we can utilize to build these vessels. Our travels resulted in new technologies for creating alloys of certain metals that greatly increase the strength factor of those same metals. But as to your cost question, because of the advanced replicator farms that we're now using for construction, cost is minimal. Tell me sir, what is your government interested in purchasing?"

"I'm not certain of the specific vessels my government has in mind at the moment. But let's say hypothetically, that we wished to field a small task force. Carrier optional task force."

"Ok. Off the top of my head, since you don't want a large carrier, how about a number of escort carriers? Say for instance, our _Jeep_-class light carrier? It has a minimal crew and carries one full squadron of fighters. Depending on what you envision as the goal of your new fleet, a decent all around package would be either a _Hyperion_ or a _Nova_ as a command vessel, maybe four _Defiant_-class heavy escorts, and four _Jeep_s. Maybe also a _Cotton_-class tender UNREP ship for your small fleet? Add in the fighters, shuttles, and troop drop ships that go with those vessels of course."

"Right. Of course. So how much would all this cost my government?"

"The latest numbers I've seen indicate that one of your sea-going carriers costs some three-and-a-half to four billion pounds to build. Is this an accurate statement?"

"That's just the construction cost of the ship itself. But yes, it's fairly accurate."

"Ok. If your government were to offer to us all the crews that would man those ships, we would train them for you on our existing ships. Bring them up to speed, as it were. At the end of one duty tour, say nine to twelve months, we would return those now experienced crews to you, along with the small task force I just mentioned. Gentlemen, if the Immortal Council were to bring to Earth, the total amount of gold that has been mined and refined from the asteroid belt, it would drop the street price from $470 per ounce to $4.70 per ounce. Hell, we found one asteroid in particular, it was maybe six hundred feet wide, that was hollow inside. So we sent in a probe to see what was inside. Gentlemen, it was a geode. A diamond geode. This is not something one could measure in carats, but in tons. Luna has no need for your money, but we do have a serious need for personnel, and for a few other commodities."

"What sort of commodities?"

"Believe it or not, Jack, but the simple things, like seed stocks, and livestock. We have a committee looking at the smaller craters near to our primary domes, to examine the feasibility of covering those craters with domes to expand our housing areas, and to create a farm-like environment."

"It sounds as if you have very ambitious plans for Luna."

"It may never be Earth-like, but we're going to try to make it the best home possible."

"This offer you are making to the British. Does that also apply to the other governments as well?"

"We plan on making the same offer to the five permanent members of the UN Security Council. These are heady times my friends. Two years ago, had any of you imagined it would be possible to travel to other stars, to plant colonies on those stars? Probably not. But the fact is, we can do that now. The universe itself is in our grasp, but only if we do things the right way, the peaceful way."

"Peace is always the best option, but first we have to finish this war against the Goa'uld and the Cylons."

"So very true, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------

_**Inside the White House**_

_**That same time**_

"How's Charlie doing, Mom?"

"He's teaching. He accepted a position at the Naval Academy. Teaching history I believe."

"Good for him. So what do you think? Do you want to move to Luna with me?"

"Oh I don't know Dana. It's so far away."

"Not all that far. Thirty minutes by shuttle. Less than that even."

"You are going to be staying on Luna? Not going off on some ship again?"

"I've had enough duty on a ship. I want to do research now. No more cutting up dead bodies."

"I'll think about it."

----------------------------------------

At the SGC, after a week's vacation by SG-1, Tok'Ra had held true to his promise in revealing the whereabouts of an Ancient outpost to Dr. Jackson. He'd only needed to give him a few clues, before Jackson had worked out the rest on his own. SG-13 were now off-world, visiting P3X-666 in an attempt to find any clues to help defeat the Goa'uld. But nothing ever goes as smoothly as planned for any SG team, and it seems thirteen might have been an unlucky number choice as they came under attack. SG-1, SG-3, and SG-IST2 were sent in as backup to retrieve SG-13.

During the firefight that ensued, Dr. Janet Fraiser was shot by a staff weapon. She fell over instantly unconscious. Tok'ra medic D'Fir saw her fall and reacted quickly to her wounds. D'Fir was still with the SGC until the Tok'ra Council requested her return. D'Fir used the hand device to revive Janet and to stabilize her until they could take her back through the gate. While there were casualties, the timely intervention by D'Fir saved the life of Janet Fraiser.

A week after that fateful Stargate mission, where the CMO had nearly lost her life, a group of engineers and scientists from NASA, the European Space Agency, the Russian Space Agency, the Chinese Space Agency, and the Japanese Space Agency were on Luna for a meeting. With them, were also their government counterparts, empowered to negotiate for technologies on behalf of their various governments.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming here today. I know that with the appearance of our Colonial brethren and with the advanced technologies displayed by the US Air Force among others, your agencies are now at a disadvantage. Today, the Immortal Council has authorized me to extend to your agencies and governments, as a courtesy, the use of several shuttles, transports, and construction vehicles. If you look to the main screen, the first vehicle is an ISSCV, or Inter-Stellar Space Cargo Vehicle. It is a surface to orbit vehicle capable of carrying a cargo box that is fifteen meters long, by five meters wide, by five meters in height. Additionally, the ISSCV can take cargo from an orbital platform across the relatively short distances within a planetary system, but due to its nature can not cross the vast inter-planetary distances on its own. The advantage here is that base unit of the ISSCV is also the same one used for the APC version, to transport troops and military equipment from a carrier to the ground.

"Once in space, we have the _Builder_-class _Construction Fury_, which is based on the same type of construction as our premier frontline fighter, the SA-23E _Aurora_. The _Construction Fury_'s can move cargo, assemble stations, and perform any other tasks that are currently performed by your astronauts wearing only space suits. The advantage here is obviously more protection against solar radiation and debris in orbit.

"Next is a vessel, that while smaller than the two previous vessels, is more adaptable to various situations. It can be used to ferry equipment or cargo, perform repairs, or even just to examine the surface structure of a vessel or station. We're calling it a _Worker Bee_, because it has so many uses and because it's so small, and also because we've painted them the brightest yellow we could find so we can easily spot them in the darkness of space.

"With so many world governments now wanting to put up stations for research or commerce or recreation and whatnot, the need for your agencies is growing. Combined in this room is the brain trust that has taken men from Earth to the Moon, sent probes to the major planets in our solar system, and launched probes that are now traveling out among the stars. The Immortal Council felt it was high time we gave something back. Each government represented here will get twenty-five ISSCVs, along with fifty _Builders_ and one hundred _Worker Bees_. You could pool your resources and build your stations faster, or you can do everything alone. Your choice.

"One last thing. As you are aware, the Immortal Shipyards will shortly begin construction on _Bird_-class commercial transports, and _Star_-class commercial scouts. If your governments wish, we can provide two of each of these to you for larger cargo jobs or for longer duration scout missions.

"That is all I have for the moment. Questions?"

"Mr. President. I am Mikhail Gudonov, aide to President Roshenko. Just how much will these new vessels cost us?"

"Ah, you are curious as to the 'catch' as it were. Well, in real dollars, I'm told the Shuttle that NASA has used for so many years cost an average of two point one billion dollars to build. Giving you a fleet of twenty-five similar vessels, would bankrupt most nations. So, rather than charge you an exorbitant amount, we, the Council, request a favor from each of your governments. As you know, we are attempting to become more self sufficient on Luna. The Council today approved a major construction project for Beaumont Crater. A shield will be put into place allowing our crews to work in light environmental suits in order that they build a dome over the entire crater. The shield will remain in place over the dome and eventually, just underneath the dome to provide an extra level of security. This crater will become home to our farmlands so that we might cultivate crops with any surpluses shipped back to Earth.

"But lunar soil is hardly conducive to growing anything. So what we would like from you, in exchange for providing the new equipment to your governments, is one trip from each of your governments using all of the ISSCVs at your disposal, ferrying soil suitable for the growth and cultivation of crops. Additionally, we request seed stocks to start our crops. Is this too much to ask of you?"

The various representatives stared at one another before giving their agreement. They did not want to look the gift horse in the mouth.

----------------------------------------

In the weeks that followed, SG teams went off-world almost continuously, acting as messengers in some cases for the Alliance members, and locating worlds free of Goa'uld influence where off-world facilities could be established. On Earth, the race for the Presidency heated up. Kinsey and Ryan were scheduled to meet in their first debate with interplanetary implications. It would be the first time ever that a televised debate would be deliberately broadcast to other planets.

It was a standard debate format with first one candidate, then the other, answering a list of prepared questions, asked by a moderator. At the end of this first debate, time permitting, three people who had been 'randomly' chosen, would be allowed to ask a pre-screened question to the candidates, and both would be given ninety seconds to respond.

Kinsey was already on the record as wanting to shut down what he called a 'Pandora's Box'. Ryan, on the other hand, kept pointing to all the good things that had come to Earth and the United States as a result of the Stargate. Kinsey pointed to the fact that the US military had acted recklessly and Ryan pointed to the fact that the US Military had initiated contact with advanced races that were even now helping improve life on Earth. Their jabs and punches went back and forth, Kinsey blaming Ryan for everything wrong with the country, and Ryan calmly explaining why things were they way they were. Then it came down to the final three questions, asked by three 'randomly' selected members of the audience. Unbeknownst to Kinsey, two of the three had been purposefully pre-selected and given pre-written questions by Arnie van Damm.

"Senator Kinsey. My name is Ronald Stackmoore of Maryland. Tell me sir, if elected, will you honor the treaties signed under President Ryan's administration with the Immortals, the Colonials, and the other aliens?"

"I will honor them to a point. Sure, there is some good that has come from these treaties, but the overall picture is bleak. Our being a party to the Alliance means loosing our independence. Neither the United States in particular nor the Earth in general, I believe, is ready to give up the sense of freedom that our ancestors fought so hard to achieve."

"Mr. President, you have ninety seconds to respond."

"Thank you. The treaties worked out by the diplomatic teams of the United States have proven to be a boon for our economy. Using technology from the Alliance, we've managed to offer a blind person their sight; we've begun production on a cure for so many suffering from AIDS, and production on a vaccination against the virus that causes this dreadful disease. We've been offered trade deals that would allow the US to produce cheap and clean electrical power, and a new job market that we can export our citizens to. And of course, there are at present a dozen or so American companies producing the new personal food replicators that hold the promise of an end to world hunger."

"Mr. President. I am Sean Connors of Illinois. Tell me sir, given the recent attacks on the United States by terrorists using aircraft and biological weapons, what is your opinion of the current state of Earth?"

"I think it's time the people of Earth grew into their own and realized that there is a great big universe out there. Our destiny lies as much here on Earth as it does in the stars. Our ancestors came to the Americas and explored its lands because that need for exploration, for seeing new places, exists in us all. If we can manage to overcome our differences with one another, then we will be in the best position to expand quickly. Each and every culture on this planet can contribute something towards that end. But first, we have a war to win. And while it may not be entirely of our making, the goal is basic survival. Our brethren have come across the sea of stars to find sanctuary with us. They have, unfortunately, been pursued by an enemy that wants to extinguish all human life. This cybernetic enemy is attempting to do to the entire Human species, what we stopped Hitler from doing to the Jewish people.

"Senator Kinsey, you have ninety seconds to respond."

"We have enough problems here on Earth without inviting the troubles of other races. The God I believe in will not allow His children to fade from His great plan."

"Senator Kinsey. I'm Caitlin O'Shannessy, Sheriff of Pope County, Texas. Why did you send killers into our communities to behead innocent men and women?"

"I beg your pardon! I've done no such thing!"

"I have proof of this, Senator. Undeniable proof of your orders as given to fifteen men. Orders to travel to different cities to execute innocent citizens, so that we citizens would have a fear of Immortals and of Colonials."

"I have done no such thing! How dare you accuse me of murder!"

Behind the two men on the stage at the American University in Washington, DC, a number of men and women in suits had appeared. All wore badges, and it did appear as though all were armed.

"Senator Kinsey. Good evening. I'm Inspector Patrick O'Day of the FBI. You sir, are under arrest."

"On what charge?"

"Conspiracy to commit murder. Conspiracy to kidnap citizens of the United States, of Immortal Luna, and of Colonial Mars. Conspiracy to defraud the people of the United States. Treason against the United States. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, note that anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed by the courts. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"You can't do this! Do you realize who I am? I will be President! Get away from me! You can't do this to me!"

Kinsey struggled against the men on the stage for all of about ten seconds, before he was knocked to the ground and cuffed. A moment later he was led away by Inspector O'Day. At his arraignment the next day, Kinsey pled not guilty to all of the charges, but behaved in such a manner that the judge ordered a psychiatric evaluation of the Senator.

At the same time, the Senate was meeting in a hastily called emergency session. All senators, save Kinsey, were in attendance. The FBI presented their evidence to the Senate, and in a historically significant unanimous vote, they passed a measure that would strip Senator Kinsey of his elected office and all of his privileges. Furthermore, a second measure was voted on and approved and it called for the Governor of Maryland to immediately act so as to officially declare the senatorial seat of Maryland vacant, and to appoint a new Senator to replace Kinsey as soon as possible.

The headlines around the US the next day all showed the same picture of the former Senator Kinsey being led out of a courthouse in Washington, DC, in a straight jacket. And with the elections to be held in less than a month's time, Jack Ryan was all but assured of victory. The citizens of the United States could tolerate many faults in the men they elected to the Presidency, but treason was not one of them. Nor was murder. The trial of Senator Kinsey occupied the headlines in the weeks before and after the election. Though he never admitted his culpability, he was eventually sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole, a total of thirty-one times. More than half of those sentences had been for the murders he'd ordered. Two of those sentences had been for the conspiracy to defraud charges, and the final sentence handed down had been in response to the charge of treason. Though the jury could have given him a death sentence for the treason charge alone, they elected to keep him alive and in prison, so that he could suffer for all the harm he caused.

With the Senator out of the way, the newly re-born Consortium faltered again. And when it arose yet again out of the ashes, Alex Krycek was at its helm, guiding them into a galactic class intelligence gathering operation that would support the Alliance.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I'm breaking the story here into two sections. The next 'chapter' is the story of Senator Kinsey. When that wraps up, the final chapter will be the continuation of this story.

END OF NOTE


	10. In the Eyes of a Ranger

_**In the Eyes of the Ranger**_

Back-story to the **_Potentials_** series by Texan

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It was like being caught in a Texas-sized tornado, Jake Sheridan thought, and it felt like that more and more lately. After ten-plus years in his current incarnation as a Texas Ranger, Jake had thought about moving on, but the world-wide revelation of the existence of Immortals made that a moot point. Then had come the offer from Mako, First Protector of Immortal Luna, to head up the security division for the Immortal Embassies and Consular offices. It had been an excellent offer and he'd taken it. That had been over six months ago and it had been a hectic six months! After moving to a new residence on Luna, he'd been briefed in on the goings-on regarding politics on Earth, Mars, and Luna. The news of Senator Kinsey's announcement regarding Immortals had prompted the Immortal Council to issue a travel advisory for all Immortals on Earth.

Jake had spent six weeks learning how to fly a shuttle so he could visit the facilities on Earth and Mars. His shuttle was part of the Lunar fleet, and as such was armed. Its weapons, however, would only be deployed if the shuttle pilot set the alert condition to red, and only pilots coded to the particular shuttle could set that condition. It was a failsafe so that if the shuttle were stolen while he was Earth-side, no one else, in theory, could deploy those weapons. Though of course, it was just a theory.

Jake had settled into his new role well enough. He had kept in touch with Olivia Benson whom he had met just over a year ago in New York City while tracking down a serial killer. Olivia was a detective with the New York Police Department's Special Victim's Unit. They were taking things slowly, one step at a time, trying not to rush things. Both wanted something special. But at least when he was in Texas, she could hop on a plane and visit or vice versa. Her going to Luna would be another matter altogether. But for the moment that didn't matter. Jake was in a shuttle headed to Earth, to go over the security at the Washington, D.C., embassy. The one thing in his favor was that the embassy had a large enough area within the walls to allow him to set the shuttle down at the embassy, thus negating the need for extra security on this trip.

"_Independence_ Control, this is Lunar shuttle Echo Sierra on approach. Requesting atmospheric insertion vectors for the Washington embassy."

"Ah, roger that Echo Sierra. Stand by for vectors."

"Standing by."

"Lunar shuttle, we have a request from a VIP for transit to the Colonial Embassy at your destination. Are you equipped to handle passengers?"

"Roger that, Control. Awaiting vectors for docking."

The last thing Jake wanted to do was pick up a passenger. He wanted to get on the ground quickly so he could meet with Liv, who was waiting for him at the embassy. They had booked into the Hotel Washington on the Mall for the weekend. Then Monday morning, he would drop her at Union Station for her trip back to New York, and he would go on to the embassy to look over the security arrangements. A passenger would mean an extra few minutes in the air and that meant a few minutes less with Liv. Sometimes he hated duty.

"Lunar shuttle, we show hard dock on the outer ring."

"Confirm Control. I show hard dock as well. Standing by to receive VIP."

"They're on their way."

"They?"

Jake had no more uttered his question than a voice called out to him from the airlock.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted. Have a seat and get strapped in. I apologize for the lack of comfortable seating. I was not expecting to have any passengers."

"Nonsense. We just preferred to take a shuttle rather than have our molecules spread out between here and the Embassy."

"Amen to that! I'm Jacob Sheridan, but you can call me Jake."

"Colonel Sheba, flight commander, Silver Spar squadron."

"Commander Apollo of the Battlestar _Galactica_."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you folks."

Jake executed a smooth separation from the space station, triggering his communications gear as he did so. "_Independence_ Control, I have clean separation from the station. Requesting atmospheric insertion vectors."

"Roger that, Lunar Shuttle. Transmitting vectors now. Contact Andrews approach control on Guard when entering the Air Defense Interdiction Zone."

"Affirmative _Independence_ Control. Lunar shuttle, out."

----------------------------------------

"So, you folks going down to DC on business or pleasure?"

"Both, actually. I have a meeting at the embassy with representatives from the…err…five permanent members of your UN Security Council. Colonel Sheba is accompanying me as a bodyguard. After the meetings, we hope to see some of your capital city."

"I see. I too am going down for both business and pleasure. Pleasure first, for once."

"What is it you do, Mr. Sheridan?"

"My official title is Protector. I am going down to oversee the security arrangements for the Lunar embassy. I'll spend a few days Earth-side, then go back to Luna for more paperwork."

"Ah yes. Paperwork. The bane of every working person in the universe."

"Ain't that the truth!"

The conversation continued in spurts and pauses as Jake brought the shuttle down into the atmosphere and into the regular air traffic patterns. Then Jake was all business as he contacted Andrews control.

"Andrews approach, this is Lunar shuttle Echo Sierra on Guard, how copy?"

"Shuttle Echo Sierra, we read you five by five."

"Affirmative Andrews approach. Requesting vectors for approach and landing at Lunar Embassy in DC. Weapons are safed. Repeat, weapons are safed."

"Confirmed weapons safe. Transmitting vectors for approach and landing. At this time, we are launching an interceptor flight to escort you in to your final destination."

"Understood, Andrews. Lunar shuttle out."

The Capitol city by night seemed to take on a very different character than what possessed it by day. The shadows cast by the buildings and monuments almost called out to a person's very soul. It could almost be said that the very buildings were alive and at night they seemed to breathe a sigh of relief that their human occupants had left them alone.

For his first solo flight into the atmosphere, Jake had done well. His military escort had peeled off as he landed at the embassy and returned to their normal flight patterns over the city. Despite all the changes and added security in the wake of the September 11th terrorist attack, there were still military flights over the city. It would be some time before the advanced defensive systems that the IDB were working on would be ready for field testing and more time still before those same systems could be installed in cities around the world. But there would be a time, hopefully not too far in the future, when American cities would be protected against terrorists.

The very philosophy of terrorism was abhorrent to nature, or at least to Jake's nature. His long career in law enforcement, interspersed with short tours of duty in the military made the idea of a terrorist seem impossible to the strict code by which he lived. His opinion was shared by many but voiced by few. When a terrorist is captured, they should be taken to their execution forthwith. A trial for a terrorist was like a book for a dead man; both were useless. But of course, there was this whole idea of martyrdom, which was not a hard concept to grasp, but still seemed, well, just plain wrong.

----------------------------------------

_**Las Vegas, Nevada**_

It was an apartment that could be found in any city in the US. A wide open floor plan with hardwood floors and just enough area rugs to offset the feeling of a cold floor on bare feet. It wasn't in a high rise like could be found in New York or Los Angeles. It was a third floor apartment.

The downstairs neighbors had called the police only a half hour ago to report what sounded like a fight above them. Two police officers had arrived to investigate the complaint and after speaking with the neighbors, they'd gone on upstairs to speak with the now quiet residents. The door was ajar and caution being the better part of valor, both officers drew their guns.

The smell hit them first. Intense copper. The scene was surreal. Blood was spattered on the walls in vibrant slash patterns. One of the officers ran outside quickly and lost what little he had eaten not more than an hour before during his dinner break. The other one still inside saw the body first, laying askew near the fireplace. The head, however, was over by the couch some feet away. He quickly called for a crime scene unit and for backup. Lots of backup. Lots and lots of backup.

"What have you got for us, Brass?"

"This one came disassembled. Have a look and let me know what you think?"

"Sure. Sara, get on the camera. Warrick, walkthrough. Nick, you're with me."

There was just as much blood now as there had been when the first officers on the scene had found the body. But the one who called it in had missed the message on the wall. '_Everything_ _dies'_ was written in blood, and beneath it '_Immortals_ _lie_, _Immortals_ _die_.' It was a unique message meant for a unique target. As they started to photograph the scene, Brass came in.

"Griss, looks like we've got two more headless bodies. One in an apartment just off the Strip. The other across town. The officers on the scene tell me the writings on the wall are the same as here."

"That can't be good."

"No. You suppose these men claimed to be Immortals and someone killed them to prove otherwise?"

"I won't know that until I examine the evidence. But I thought the whole idea behind Immortality was that they couldn't be killed?"

The look on Gil Grissom's face was that of a man full of unanswered questions. It mirrored the look of Brass' face. Unanswered questions. That's all a crime scene was at the beginning, unanswered questions. It took a critical and analytical mind to examine the evidence recovered to answer those questions. The moment he got back into his office he placed a call to a friend of his. He'd met the Commandant of the Texas Rangers twenty years earlier during a seminar for law enforcement. He'd heard that there was an Immortal among the Texas Rangers and he wanted to borrow his expertise for the duration of this case. But the Immortal Texas Ranger had moved on and was now living on Luna. So Brass placed a call to the Lunar Embassy in the nation's capitol and requested the services of Jacob Sheridan, Immortal Protector.

----------------------------------------

_**Hotel Washington**_

They had slept late, Jake and Liv. After spending several hours walking along the National Mall and taking in the various memorials, they'd enjoyed a quiet dinner for two at a quiet Italian restaurant in Georgetown before returning to their room for a night filled not with sex or love making, but the warm comfort of each other's arms.

It was Sunday morning in the capitol city. Olivia awoke to the sounds of running water as Jake took a shower. She slipped quietly from the bed and went to join him in the shower. After all, it was always a good idea to conserve water, wasn't it? More than an hour later, they emerged from the shower. Not because they were tired of standing, but rather because they had used all the hot water. They fell heavily on the bed, satiated with pleasure and fell into a light doze. Jake awoke some time later. He wasn't sure what exactly had woken him, but he looked to the side and saw the light on the phone blinking.

"Front desk."

"Yes, this is Mr. Sheridan. You have a message for me?"

"Ah yes, Mr. Sheridan. A messenger came by just a short while ago. You are requested to contact your local office as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

Olivia noticed the strange look on Jake's face as he placed the handset back on its base.

"What's up Jake?"

"Had a message to call the 'local office'. Give me a few minutes will ya?"

"Sure. I'm gonna take a shower. A real one this time."

"Spoilsport."

Jake grinned as Olivia sashayed into the bathroom before picking up the phone again.

"Thank you for calling the Lunar Embassy. How may I direct your call?"

"This is Protector Sheridan. I was told to contact the embassy?"

"Yes sir. One moment sir while I connect your call."

A moment later a different voice, all business, came on the line.

"Security office."

"This is Protector Sheridan. You have something for me?"

"Not sure sir. Luna forwarded a request for your services by the Clark County Sheriff's department. Looks like there were three beheadings there last night."

"Immortals?"

"Unknown at this time sir. The Council is conducting a roll call to see if anyone Earth-side is missing. But you know how it is with our kind, sir."

"All too well, I'm afraid. Very well, can you send a car for me?"

"On the way sir."

A few moments later Olivia emerged from the bathroom wrapped in one of the hotel's robes.

"So, did you make your call, Jake?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately, duty calls Liv. Unless you can get some more time off?"

"Depends. What's going on?"

"Las Vegas Sheriff's Office wants a consult. Looks like three headless bodies turned up last night."

"Immortals?"

"That was my first guess, but there aren't many details coming out of Nevada. The shuttle is assigned to me, so I guess that will put me there pretty quick-like. Want to come along? If it isn't an Immortal doing the killing or if any of the victims aren't Immortal then I could certainly use another perspective."

"Let me call my boss. I think I have two weeks of vacation time coming."

"You do that. I'll grab a shower, then we can head to the Embassy."

"Ok."

----------------------------------------

_**Las Vegas**_

_**CSI Unit**_

"Griss, we've got another one. Dismembered body. Different message though."

"What was the message?"

"_Colonial or Alien. Same difference. Kill them all_."

"That makes four so far. Whoever's doing this had a busy night."

"I hope that's all though."

"Amen to that, Brass. Any luck getting through to this expert?"

"I've contacted the Lunar Embassy in DC. They're making arrangements to get him here today."

"Sounds good."

----------------------------------------

_**Lunar Embassy**_

_**Wisconsin Ave, NW**_

"Protector Sheridan. There's been a fourth killing. A Colonial officer assigned to Nellis as an instructor pilot. Part of their agreement with the US government."

"Oh damn. That is not good news. Have you contacted their embassy?"

"Affirmative. Commander Apollo and his aide are on there way here. They want to go with you to Las Vegas to retrieve to the body."

"Of course. I assume I'll be flying into Nellis?"

"You assume correctly, Protector. The shuttle is ready in all respects. First Protector Mako has issued authorization for you to draw your choice of weapons."

"How kind of him. What do you have in the armory?"

"Colonial laser pistols. Standard issue nine millimeter pistols. Zats."

"Give me two of each."

"Two?"

"Detective Benson will be joining me."

"Of course, Protector. I'll send the Colonials to the shuttle pad the moment they arrive."

"Good. I'll prep the shuttle for immediate launch."

Three hours later, the four of them were driving into the parking lot of the Las Vegas Sheriff's Department CSI unit. They had landed at Nellis AFB, and after checking in with the base commander, had been granted a HumVee for the duration of their stay. The two Colonials, Apollo and Sheba, had opted to wear their standard issue laser pistols. Jake was wearing a Zat on one leg, a laser pistol in a shoulder holster, and a sword baton in his belt. Olivia had opted for her service pistol and one backup weapon. It was fifteen hundred hours, not quite nineteen hours since the discovery of the first body when they walked into the building.

"Hello. I'm looking for Captain Brass?"

"You've found him."

"Sir. Protector Sheridan at your disposal. I understand you requested my services?"

"We did. But I was under the impression only you would be coming here?"

"This is Commander Apollo and Colonel Sheba of the Colonial fleet. They are here for the body of their man. This lovely woman is Detective Olivia Benson of the Special Victims Unit of the NYPD."

"Oh? Have there been similar murders in New York?"

"Not that I know of. But Jake and I have worked together in the past and he asked for my help on this one."

"We have four bodies so far. One has been positively identified as a Colonial instructor pilot. The other three we have been unable to identify as yet."

"I see. May I see the three unidentified bodies?"

"Of course. This way."

----------------------------------------

"So, Mr. Grissom. Tell me about this first body."

"Perhaps you should tell me what you see, Mr. Sheridan?"

"Very well. Caucasian male. Mid thirties. Some superficial slash wounds on the upper arms and across the torso. There are hesitation marks on the neck and upper torso. Whoever the killer is was unsure about this first kill. The cut on the neck wasn't clean either. Either the perpetrator was a very new Immortal, or the person you seek is not one of us."

"How can you be so sure?"

"The lack of burns around the neck for one. I'd appreciate it if what I'm about to say is kept to the occupants of this room. If it appears in a report, well, it would be the end of all Immortals. That being said, the only way to kill one of us is to separate the body from the head. The resulting event is the release of energies, a transference if you will. The winner gets the loser's soul, for lack of a better term. The energies transfer the sum total of memories and experiences of the previous owner. This is most often observable by a severe electrical disturbance at the site surrounding the murder. Well, look here. There are metal fragments in the wound and around the bone. Can you date the metal for me?"

"I think we can do that. Why?"

"Immortals tend to use well-made blades. During the Middle Ages, any blacksmith worth his salt could make a sword. But, only a true sword-smith could make a blade that would stand the test of time."

"I see. Do you use a well-made blade?"

"I use the blade that I carried at the time of my first death. A CSA cavalry saber. That blade is safe on the moon."

"Are you carrying a blade now?"

"I try not to go out in public without one. Just a standard 440 steel blade. This one slides into a baton so I don't always have to use lethal force."

"That's understandable. Do you recognize any of these men?"

"No. Not off hand. I'll contact Luna and see if they have anything on these bodies for me."

"You can use my office if you like."

"Thanks."

----------------------------------------

"Mako."

"It's Jake, sir. I'm transmitting three photographs that I need to have compared against the database of Immortals. But my first guess is that these are not of our kind, sir. No signs of any electrical disturbances at either of the three crime scenes. I've asked the locals to date the metal fragments recovered from the bodies."

"Very well Jacob. I will order a search of the Watcher Archives at once. But I too have news. More bodies have been discovered. We have three in Los Angeles, three in Seattle, three in Cleveland, and three in Atlanta. Thus far, only one Colonial has been killed, there in Las Vegas. The deaths are being covered on local media, but if someone puts the evidence together, there could be a national panic."

"Not something we want. Have requests for assistance come in from those other cities?"

"Yes, from all of them. They all had similar messages written in blood near the decapitated bodies. I have put in a request to Stargate Command for assistance from one of the strike teams. As of 2100 Colorado time, Duncan MacLeod's team will be on stand down. One of his team members, however, is being flown out to your location as we speak. Expect her arrival."

"Who will be joining me?"

"Her name is Cierdwyn. She is a psychologist. I believe she has some experience in the criminal aspects of that science."

"Her help will be greatly appreciated. My shuttle, sir, has some analytical equipment aboard. I'd like to move it closer to my location. Perhaps MacLeod's team can be assigned as security for the shuttle?"

"Negative. His team can better serve you on the ground at the various crime scenes. I will request a security team from the SGC. Luna out."

----------------------------------------

"Captain Brass, Mr. Grissom. I have news. Mostly bad, but some good."

"Bad news first please. It will give us something better to look forward to."

"Interesting philosophy, Mr. Grissom. Bad news first then. The Protector's office on Luna has informed me of the discovery of more decapitated bodies in each of four other cities: Seattle, Los Angeles, Cleveland, and Atlanta all reported three headless bodies each. The story for the moment is being kept out of the national media, but that won't hold true for long. It would seem, at least at first glance, that there is a concerted effort to ferret out the remaining Immortals on Earth. All this means is that I will be working here in your fair city until the cases are resolved. To this end, I am requesting privileges in your parking area to station my shuttle here. I have some analytical equipment aboard that may be of some use. Additionally, some help is being flown in at the request of the Immortal Council. The first to arrive is Cierdwyn, a psychologist, who will be arriving in a few hours. After her, are four Immortals, who will work out of the facilities on my shuttle and be tasked with coordinating the investigations in the other affected cities."

"How large is your shuttle?"

"I'll need about five parking spaces assigned to me. The shuttle will be parked there, and there will be a security team assigned to protect the shuttle from the inquisitive. I will be driving the HumVee back to Nellis and bring the shuttle back with me. I would request, then, that someone take me to a car rental facility to obtain some vehicles for the crew coming in. And if you would recommend a decent hotel in the area, I'd appreciate it. In the meantime, I will be contacting these other police departments to determine if the crime scenes are as identical as we are led to believe."

"Very well. We will continue with our investigation. You expect to be back here soon I take it?"

"Hopefully within the hour. Thank you gentlemen, for your help so far."

----------------------------------------

"Ah, Commander Apollo. I trust all is well?"

"It is not. Whomever has done this to my pilot must be brought to justice."

"And whomever they are, they will be. On that I give you my word."

"Where are you going, Protector Sheridan?"

"I have been informed of similar deaths in four other cities. As a result, the Immortal Council has given me some help for this case. You are welcome to assist or to assign someone from your government to assist me on the case."

"Unfortunately, I am needed in Washington for those trade negotiations I mentioned. The instructor pilot had a Viper here for his use. I will be returning to Nellis to take that Viper back to your Capitol first, then to Mars. I will leave Colonel Sheba here to assist you."

"Very good, Commander. I am returning to Nellis as well. Perhaps we could go together?"

"Thank you."

----------------------------------------

"Olivia. Hey."

"Hey you. I wondered when you were gonna finish up in your meeting."

"Hell, you know how it is. A cop's work is never done."

"I know. Believe me, I know that one. Any leads?"

"Maybe. The perp wasn't one of us. His or her blade left behind some slivers in the wounds. And there were hesitation marks on the bodies. Even a newly risen Immortal receives training with a sword before going out into the world. The first time I took a head, there was no hesitation. It was either me or him and there was simply no other choice. But thankfully, it's not something I enjoy doing and so I avoid it whenever possible. But that's how I know it wasn't one of my kind."

"I spoke to Cragen a while ago. They've got a serial killer on the loose. He needs me back there."

"I understand. I'll drop you at the airport on my way to Nellis."

"For some reason, Fate doesn't seem to want us together for long, Jake."

"Fate be damned! When this case is over with, you and I are going to take an extended vacation. We'll take a shuttle and take a tour around the system. You game for that?"

"The solar system? You mean, as in outer space?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I mean. So, you up for that?"

"Hmm, sex in zero G. Sounds interesting."

"And we'd be the ultimate members of the 'Mile High Club'!"

"Count me in. You watch yourself, Ranger. I want you coming back to me."

"Count on it, Detective."

----------------------------------------

_**Somewhere in Maryland**_

"Yes."

"The first step is complete. All agents report mission complete."

"Excellent. Proceed at once to next targets. And prepare an appropriate press leak."

"Understood."

----------------------------------------

_**Las Vegas CSI Unit**_

_**The Next Day**_

The Watcher Archives had come back with no matches to the photographs transmitted to Luna, though it meant next to nothing. There were too many Immortals in the Archives for which modern photographs did not exist. The examination by the local coroner indicated that the deaths two nights previously had been perpetrated by four different persons. It was the angle of the blade strikes, according to the forensic evidence, that indicated this.

Radio carbon dating of the blade slivers was spread across a spectrum of at least fifty years. It told him only that all of the bladed weapons used by the perps were current production, certainly not something that the average Immortal would be caught dead with. There were so few masters of the art of sword-smithing that if a good quality blade had been used, it would have been easier to trace.

The metal composition told him the bladed weapons were probably something along the lines of machetes, which were good for cutting, but not really a weapon of choice for the type of fighting that Immortals generally engaged in.

The initial reports from the crime scenes in the other four cities had been faxed in just a few hours before. Multiple strike angles, hesitation marks, and in one case, the cutting weapon, all pointed to the possibility of a group of persons out there cutting off heads, and trying to get a particular message across to the audience. It was a message that the Immortal Council did not want in the public domain.

One of the bodies in Atlanta reportedly had a tattoo on the inside of the wrist. After a quick call to the Atlanta PD, a photo of said tattoo was in his hands. It was, undeniably, a Watcher tattoo. Jake walked out briskly to the shuttle to open a secure data link to Luna.

"Mako, it's me. We might have a problem. I'm transmitting another photo for you to check. This one from one of the bodies in Atlanta. The body had a tattoo on the inside of the wrist. It sure as hell looks like one a Watcher would wear."

"One moment. I am adding Dawson to this circuit."

"Dawson."

"Mr. Dawson, Jake Sheridan here. You are aware of the current spate of beheadings on Earth, yes?"

"I am. My people have been checking their own sources and no Immortals are missing."

"Any Watchers missing? The reason I ask is that a body in the Atlanta triple beheading has a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. I need to know if he's one of yours."

"Send me the image. I'll get back to you as soon as I know."

"Thanks. Sheridan out."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. Sheridan?"

"Captain Brass. What can I do for you?"

"Come out here to the break room. It looks like the killings in the other cities have made the news."

"Shit-fuck-crap-hell!"

Sheridan walked out of the office he was using to go over the autopsy results and in to the break room. Sure enough, there was a talking head on the tube going on about the recent spate of killings in five US cities.

"…_we now have confirmed reports of sixteen deaths spread across five US cities. Early indications are that the victims were targeted for execution by an as yet unidentified party or parties. In Las Vegas, the killers also took the life of Captain Circe, who had been temporarily stationed at Nellis Air Force Base as part of an exchange program with the US military and the Colonial Military. The names of the other fifteen victims have not yet been released pending notification of their families, but we have several unconfirmed reports that the victims may have been masquerading as Immortals…_"

----------------------------------------

Jake had been running on fumes for the better part of the last twenty-four hours and he knew he was headed for a hard crash against the wall, so he went to his hotel room to sleep for a few hours. He had given initial sets of orders to Duncan's team. Cierdwyn was, for the moment, working out of a borrowed office in the CSI unit, attempting to come up with some sort of profile for them to follow. Ramirez was on a flight headed to Atlanta to liaison with the police there. Peter Sennes had been sent to Cleveland, Amanda to Seattle and Duncan to Los Angeles. For Jake, the opportunity to meet _the _Ramirez himself had been priceless. He hoped that Ramirez would find something useful in Atlanta, but if not, he also hoped that with his knowledge, they'd be able to come up with some type of solution.

The door opened and his bed beckoned him. He fell onto it bonelessly. Just as his mind began to relax into a nice beta state, he felt the hair on the back on his neck rise. Someone was in his room! He rolled over casually, his hand moving to the Zat still in its holster on his leg. In one swift movement, he'd pulled and fired at a human shaped shadow he'd seen out of the corner of his eye. A grunt and a sizzle of electricity preceded a body falling to the floor. Some minutes later, the now tied up body groaned as consciousness came to the fore.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

"My name is unimportant. The information I have for you, however, is very important."

"Ok, Mr. Unimportant. What's this info you have for me?"

"You're looking for some people that have been taking heads?"

"What do you know about this case? Tell me now!"

"What I know would scare you, Mr. Sheridan. Or should I call you Ranger? Or is the title Protector more appropriate?"

As Jake stood there, listening to this man rant off his current and past titles, he pressed a button on his watch, under the pretense of checking the time. It activated a direct transmission line to the Protectorate's Office on Luna. The office couldn't contact him on that link, but he could transmit out. The incoming link activated a recorder on Luna, and immediately notified the duty officer on shift.

"So you know my titles, past and present. So what? What else do you know?"

"I know who's responsible for ordering the deaths. I know what his plans are."

"And just how in the hell do you know this? More importantly, why in the hell did you choose me, of all people, to contact? Especially in such a clandestine manner?"

"Let's just say I owe Fox Mulder a hundred lifetimes worth of favors. For getting rid of the Consortium leadership. But you know, you kill one head, and another springs up in its place. You can't kill off the Consortium. The conspiracy has always existed. It traces its roots back to Judas Iscariot, who betrayed...well, you know who he betrayed."

"I think I need to sit down now."

"Might be a good idea, Ranger."

"So tell me what you know, Mr. Unimportant."

"Alex. Call me Alex."

"Jake. Nice to meet you Alex."

"I'd say likewise, but that remains to be seen. As I said, Mulder and his colleagues, or is the word cohorts? Anyway, Mulder had collected enough evidence against the Consortium. Enough to put them all away for dozens of lifetimes. In a lot of countries, what they did would have got them shot, burned, and buried in a deep dark hole somewhere. But I understood Mulder's intent on sparing the world the pain of learning just how cruel as a species we could be. I understand why he recommended the leadership be prosecuted off-world. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when the sentence was handed down. But I also understand why I was left out of the proceedings. As a high ranking foot soldier for the Consortium, I was tasked with doing a lot of the really dirty jobs. They took my arm, exposed me to the 'Black Cancer', and pretty much screwed up my life from the very beginning."

"Ok, so you have a few axes to grind. Say the word, and I'll have you in protective custody on Luna."

"I don't think you get it, do you? There isn't anywhere in the galaxy where I would be safe."

"No one has reach like that."

"The Consortium does."

"I do not envy your life at all, Alex. But in a way, I would guess it is much like mine. Always having to hide my true identity. Always running in fear of my life. It's a harsh life."

"At least when I die, I know it will be the end. But you go on and on. I think it would drive me insane."

"It's been known to happen among my kind. Seeing so much death. Knowing that a loved one will eventually die of disease or old age is but one of the cruel twists of fate that the Ancients have granted us as our inheritance. But I do understand why they created us. I know they said it was as guardians for mortal men, but I think it was something baser. The need to propagate their species. Whether they're twenty years old or twenty thousand years old, the need has always been the same, hasn't it?"

"I think I'm going to like working with you Jake. You're someone that understands me."

"Ok, well, before we get all mushy here, how about that info?"

"Yes well, it was something I had to say. In any case, I was contacted some months ago by a man who has assumed full and total control of what's left of the Consortium. He has brought in from the cold a large number of the rogue NID elements. Unlike the former incarnation of the Consortium, this new chief is keeping control all to himself. His goals for the moment are rather simple. He wants to discredit Jack Ryan, so the Consortium can put its own candidate into the White House."

"Kinsey? Kinsey is their candidate?"

"The man is as crooked as the universe is infinitely large. He is assisting the new Consortium leader in exchange for promising to turn over the Stargate and all of its benefits to the Consortium. He wants all Immortals rounded up for testing. He wants the Colonials to turn over all of their technologies and he wants them killed off."

"Ok, well. That is not the kind of news I was expecting today."

"As I said, they tried to recruit me for this current terror operation, but I refused. It's one thing to assist the Consortium in carrying out research that was supposed to free us from the Alien threat. Quite another to assist them in taking over the US, especially when their current leader is certifiably mad as a hatter."

"Do you know their current plan?"

"The first step was to strike in five cities. What little additional information I have obtained is that the time table of beheadings every two weeks has been moved up considerably. As soon as each team in the target city is done, they are to move on to the next target city. I have a partial list of target cities for you. At least the next three targets for a particular team, the same one that just struck here in Las Vegas. I also have information that leads me to believe there are a total of five target cities per team in the US. After the next set of beheadings, they're supposed to rendezvous at a game ranch somewhere in Texas, for a two week rest period. Then they'll take their killing spree off-shore. They want other nations to fear Immortals. So tell me, Jake, are you a 'player' in the Game?"

"How in the hell do you know about that?"

"The Consortium knows. When enough deaths have been reported on a global level, they plan to leak details of your Game. What is the goal of the Game? Only one will survive and that one will have power over all mortal man? What do you think that kind of information will do to the population of the world?"

"Oh…My…God."

"From Vegas, the local team moves on to Dallas. Then to Washington, D.C. Another team has New York City as a target."

"Are they choosing their targets at random?"

"I have no idea how they are choosing their targets. For all I know, they're advertising in the local paper."

"How do I get in touch with you, in case I need more info?"

"I will contact you from time to time. Or, you can advertise on this website. It's a singles board. Leave a message for 'One-Armed-Bandit'."

"Thanks. I'll do that. Anything else you have for me?"

"Just this. Because it was Immortals and Ancients that put away the old leadership, you now all have targets on your heads. And because the Colonials are working so closely with you, they have targets on them by association. And all of this falls right into Kinsey's platform, that Earth and indeed the universe, belongs to man and man alone."

"Any idea how he plans to discredit the current President?"

"Yes. And it's one that I'm sure that Jack Ryan is already trying to fight off. Kinsey plans to leak Ryan's entire classified history."

"I don't know what the man has done, but if it was in the name of national security, then it has to remain secret. If it gets out, I'm sure the consequences will be very, very, very bad."

"Add a few billion more 'verys', and it might approach how bad it will get."

"Thanks Alex. This might be enough to get things rolling in the right direction now. Sorry about the Zat."

"S'ok. You didn't know who I was. But since you did apologize, I'll give you a freebie. One of the next targets they've identified in Dallas is a Watcher."

"That will help us a lot. I won't say good-bye Alex, cause I hope you'll come back. If you ever want off Earth, just say the word."

"I'll keep that in mind, Jake."

----------------------------------------

Jake waited until at least thirty minutes had passed before he contacted Luna from the secure confines of his shuttle. He wanted to make sure that no one had followed him from the hotel to the shuttle. He had to be sure.

"Mako? I take it you heard the transmission?"

"Yes. It is worrisome, Jacob. What these men are planning, it scares even me, and I had thought nothing could scare me any longer."

"I have checked with Dawson. There are no active Watchers in the entirety of the Dallas metropolitan area. But there is one retired Watcher there. He's a football fan and has season tickets for the local team."

"Have you notified him of the potential threat to his life?"

"We are sending one of our security people to him, just as a routine check, but we will provide him with a panic button, just in case."

"Mako, I think I will recall most of MacLeod's team and send them to Dallas. We need to put this retired Watcher under discreet surveillance. If he is the target, maybe we can pick up the assassins as well. If we can get one of them, maybe we can get the others before the Consortium's plan comes to fruition. I don't know about you or the other Immortals on Luna, but I do not want to be on Earth if the news of the Game leaks out. We'll become targets. Targets with bulls-eyes so big it will mean our death to set foot on this planet. I don't know about you, but I like it down here."

"Brief MacLeod's team in on the news. I'll inform the Council. Luck be with you, Jacob."

"Luck be with us all, Mako."

The news as delivered by this man Alex was thoroughly unwelcome. It was also downright frightful. Jake had never contemplated the news of Immortality getting out to the public at large. The idea of the Game would scare the public and it would be a return to the dark ages for all Immortals. Jake was not at all interested in being burnt at the stake. He put a call into MacLeod.

"Jake! What news?"

"Nothing good. I need you and your team mates back here as quickly as possible. Sheba and I will be going up to Independence Station to pick up a trio of highly modified shuttles. We'll be exchanging my current shuttle for the three new ones. She will take one and tow the second, while I take the third. One will be on loan to her, the second assigned to your team, and the third for me. The rest of the news I'll brief you in on when you arrive."

"Any chance we can get picked up by one of the shuttles?"

"Alert your team to stand by at their current locations. As soon as we get back with the shuttles, I'll ask Sheba to assist me in picking up you and your team."

"Excellent, Jake. I'll alert them and get them to hold at present locations."

"Affirmative."

----------------------------------------

The exchange of shuttles had gone without a hitch. The IDB had finally built a specially designed shuttle for law enforcement. The LE shuttle had a cloaking device, shields, and a full weapons suite. The shuttle was a bit larger than the standard shuttles that the IC Protectorate division had been using. There were four fold-away bunks along either rear wall, a basic level forensics suite, and a communications suite that would enable the pilot to intercept any communications anywhere, encrypted or otherwise. And because the shuttle was larger, it had comfortable seating for six, and less than comfortable fold-away seating for an additional six. The LE shuttle had one additional item that the previous model shuttle did not. It had an armory aboard the vessel that included Zat guns, Colonial blasters, Jaffa Staff weapons, FN P-90s, M-16s with sub-barrel grenade launchers, and IMI Desert Eagles in 50 AE. There were enough weapons to outfit twelve people.

----------------------------------------

_**Dallas, Texas**_

_**Three Days Later**_

With the entire team in Dallas watching over the retired Watcher, and with local law enforcement having been made aware of the surveillance mission, the team had settled in for the duration. Here and there, they thought they'd picked up a tail for the Watcher, but it was never the same vehicle twice, nor was it the same person twice. Either someone knew of their surveillance, or the target or targets hadn't moved in yet. It was a waiting game that was getting on their nerves.

Jake had dropped Olivia off in New York a few days previously, having asked her to pass along a general warning to the Police Department there. There wasn't much more they could do but watch and wait. After the visit from Krycek, and the news that their suspects had already moved on to the next set of cities, Jake had pulled the plug on their activities in Las Vegas, asking the CSI department there to forward any new findings to his mobile fax aboard the shuttle.

Jake had just settled in for the early morning shift of watching over the Watcher when the alert channel in the shuttle began sounding a tone.

"Shuttle LE-2, Lunar Control. Respond please."

"LE-2 here. Read you loud and clear, Control."

"Protector Sheridan. Be advised _Independence_ Control has issued a system wide alert. We have multiple unknown contacts heading into the system. Luna, Indy, and Mars are launching whatever is available. We need your three shuttles to launch at once and form up a defense line in Earth orbit."

"Holy shit! I mean, understood Lunar Control. I'll get on the horn to the other shuttles and have them form up on me."

----------------------------------------

"Sheridan to Duncan, you copy?"

"Aye, I copy. I was asleep you know."

"Figured you would be. Listen, Lunar Control has advised me our shuttles are needed for system defense. Multiple unknown contacts headed in to the system. Hand off your surveillance mission to the locals, get your gunner and meet me at Carswell. On the double, Duncan. It sounds like the shit has hit the fan upstairs!"

"Aye, I'm moving now!"

----------------------------------------

"Sheridan to Sheba, you awake over there?"

"I heard your message to Duncan. Connor and I are standing by for orders."

"Excellent!"

The three Law Enforcement shuttles lifted straight up from Carswell heading into the upper atmosphere at Mach 3. Jake had never been a combat pilot, always preferring service in infantry units. He let Colonel Sheba take the lead as he and Duncan took up flanking positions around their flight leader. Beside him, Ramirez was powering up the weapons and making the shuttle ready to fight in all respects. If this were an assault by either Anubis or the Cylons, Jake thought to himself, then I am seriously screwed if they need the services of an LE shuttle.

Though the LE class shuttles were armed, they only had light weapons. A single missile launcher on a retractable rotary pod holding nine Venom missiles, and a pair of small rail guns located one on each stub wing of the shuttle. That plus the shielding would be their only defense if this was indeed an attack by their enemy.

On the LIDAR screen in front of him, he could see the two _Prometheus_ class battlecruisers taking up defensive positions. Both had their squadrons out and flying about, though one was taking up position with the line of LE shuttles over Earth. Jake had placed the fleet common channel on the overhead and could hear the news that the _Daedalus_ was moving up to defend the inner system. F-302s and Vipers were launching at regular intervals and were lining up ready to meet the approaching unknowns. The next sight Jake saw would be forever etched onto his brain.

"Colonel! In front of us! What in the Hell is that!"

"Holy frak!"

Space seemed to blossom inward in a spiral of mottled blues and blacks. There were perhaps an even half dozen of these openings in the fabric of space and for the split second before any ships appeared, pilots and command personnel across the system held their collective breaths. Then one massive ship appeared from the central blue vortex, followed closely by other ships from the other vortices.

"_Independence_ Control. _Independence_ Control. This is the AIS _Admiral Halsey_. Rumors of our deaths have been greatly exaggerated. Permission to approach _Independence_ station."

"Permission is…granted."

They were back. Jake breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn't be exposed to a hard vacuum this day. A sigh of relief that he wouldn't face combat as an untested pilot. A sigh of relief that he could now leave the defense of the system in the very capable hands of actual pilots. Beside him, Ramirez also breathed in relief.

"Our illustrious President certainly knows how to make a grand entrance, does he not Jacob?"

"Indeed he does. I'm just grateful it's him and not Anubis or the Cylons. I had no desire to face space combat when I woke up this evening. Give me a battle on solid ground any day. This pilot stuff is for the birds!"

"Well said, young one! Well said."

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Anyone watching the news on television that early morning would have seen the 'Breaking News' banner flashing on their set. After three months listed as Missing in Action or Presumed Dead, the Alliance of Independent Systems Strike Carrier _Halsey_ had returned home, bringing with it a small fleet of vessels.

Some hours later, Jacob and his compatriots returned to Dallas to continue with their surveillance, only to learn that the local police had not done their jobs as well as advertised. In the few hours that they had been gone, the retired Watcher had been abducted! Fortunately, the Watcher in question had been contacted by his former employer some days previously and had been given a locator beacon. It wasn't anything fancy like the molar implants the Immortals wore while on Earth. No, this particular locator beacon had only a five mile range and was set into the crucifix this particular Watcher wore about his neck.

With three shuttles flying over the area, and a borrowed helicopter from the local Ranger office, the signal was quickly located and triangulated to a small warehouse on the northern side of Dallas. The strike team waited for darkness to fall before moving in. Sheba waited high above in a shuttle to render assistance if it was needed, while Jake led Duncan's strike team in to retrieve the Watcher.

It was a nondescript warehouse in an area of unused buildings. Local police didn't patrol the area often, but for this night's mission, the locals had been told to stand off completely until called in. Duncan was on point, and Amanda was by his side, waiting for the chance to defeat any sort of locks on the building. Peter Sennes had proven himself to the SGC as a more than competent shot, and so Jake assigned him a sniper rifle borrowed from the local Ranger office, and put him atop a nearby cellular tower, to watch over the building and its occupants. There were other snipers out here as well, each covering a different part of the building. He had placed them all on an encrypted radio set and was listening to their chatter as he moved into position behind Duncan and Amanda. Ramirez was a few steps behind him, covering their six.

"West side. No movement."

"East side. Shadows moving in the window. Unable to determine more."

"South side. No movement."

"North side. Have team in sight. No movement otherwise."

They had come to a door and Jake took a moment to visually scan it, looking for tell-tale sensors or wires, but there were none. He nodded to Amanda who made quick work of defeating the locks. The Immortals moved in stealthily into an exterior hallway. The crept along at a near snail's pace, not wanting to alert the man or men in the interior of the building that they'd been compromised. In the distance, they could hear moaning and the dull impacts of a fist on flesh. Then they heard muffled comments and some laughter. There was more than one man in the target area.

At a juncture in the hallway, the team split up, with Duncan and Jake going left, and Amanda and Ramirez going right. Each team came onto a door that seemed to lead where they wanted to go. Miraculously the doors were both unlocked. Jake peered in cautiously and noted that the lights in the room were focused on the three men standing around an older gentleman that was tied to a chair. The older man, presumably the Watcher, was covered in bruises and blood. It made Jake angry to view it. The one advantage they had at the moment was that the lights were all pretty much casting their light at the center of the room, leaving the walls in shadow. Jake pressed the button on his radio once, indicating that Amanda and Ramirez should split up again and move in.

A moment later, they were in position to take the three men and to free the Watcher. Jake pressed the transmit button twice, waited a few seconds, then twice more, alerting the exterior team that they were preparing to move in. As one of the men in the center of the room was preparing to strike the man tied to the chair, a trio of zat blasts rang out. Three men fell to the floor, encased in writhing energy streams. Jake ran in to the center of the room while Duncan covered him from his position.

"Mr. Richards? Can you hear me?"

"I hear you just fine. Just can't see you."

"Good. Ramirez! Get a medic! Duncan, get these men secured. We'll need to move them to a safe house for interrogation."

"Who are you people?"

"Jacob Sheridan, Immortal Protectorate Division, at your service sir."

"Thanks, Sheridan. I thought fer sure these asswipes were gonna kill me!"

"Not anymore. Ramirez, you and Amanda stay with Mr. Richards. Make sure he gets anything he needs."

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_**Pre-Dawn hours**_

_**Safe House**_

_**South of Fort Worth**_

The Watcher was safely ensconced in a room at Parkland Memorial hospital, with round the clock security provided by the MP detachment at Carswell. The remaining Immortals had come in with Colonel Sheba to the safe house to get settled in before the interrogation.

A call had come in from Luna shortly after they'd brought their three prisoners there, with the news that two members of the US Government had been assigned to the case by President Ryan, as a favor to President Marius. Jake had sent Sheba to await their arrival at Carswell and to bring them back to their location. About an hour after Sheba had left, Jake directed her up to _Independence _Station to pick up a third person.

The sun had been up for perhaps an hour when the shuttle landed. Sheba stepped off first, followed by two middle aged men, and one tall blonde man wearing all black. Jake wondered who they could be. But for the moment, he was more concerned with making enough breakfast for everyone. His team certainly deserved a well cooked meal after last night's activities. Or was that earlier this morning? In any case, a good and hearty meal would cap off the events just right. Jake kept shooing people out of the kitchen to allow him a chance to make the meal, but Duncan did come in to make several pots of coffee and a few pitchers of fresh orange juice. Duncan watched as Jake expertly flipped stacks of pancakes on the large flat griddle in the kitchen. The bacon was drying on several sheets of paper towels, to drain away the excess grease.

His team mates were already gathered round the large table in the adjacent dining room as the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen had dragged them there.

"Jake? Where did you learn to cook in such quantities?"

"England. I pulled two straight weeks of KP duty just before my unit loaded up to cross the channel. That was the sixth of June, 1944."

"What a bloody mess that was!"

"Ain't it the truth, though! I thought I'd never get off that damned beach! All those damnable shells coming in and exploding all over the place. I swore to myself, if I got out of that mess in one piece, I wouldn't ever join up again. Kept my promise for maybe five years. I may promise myself a lot, but when it comes down to protecting my country, I do my part. Ahh, Colonel Sheba! Just in time for breakfast. Y'all pull up some extra chairs for our guests. There's plenty for everyone, so just dig in. I'm Jacob Sheridan. You three must be the 'specialists' Mako told me about?"

"Inspector Patrick O'Day, FBI."

"General John Clark, Rainbow."

"Byron. Temporarily assigned to your protectorate division. Your President thought my particular talent could be of some use to you."

"Oh? What talent might that be?"

"I'm a telepath. A P12 rated telepath, formerly assigned to the enforcement division of Psi Corps."

"Oh. Well. Ok then. Never heard of this Psi Corps, but if'n you say so, Byron. Pull up a chair, and grab yourself a plate. There's plenty to go round. After we've had our fill, we can get started with the interrogations."

"Interrogations? Plural?"

"We captured the three men sent to this fair city to terrorize it, General Clark. They've already been identified as Consortium foot soldiers, so as far as I'm concerned, anything we get out of them here today, won't be used in any court anywhere. These men are nothing but terrorists. They have a plan to upset the upcoming national elections. I'm not going to allow that to happen. These men will tell all they know. Then we will find some place to put them until they can be suitably convinced not to talk about their ordeal. Or mind wiped like the former leaders of the Consortium.

"So, Byron? What does your being a telepath mean?"

"I can read a person's mind and influence their actions and thoughts. I can read a person and tell if they are being truthful or not. As the rating increases, so does the potential one has for influencing others."

"Could you demonstrate? On me?"

"If you insist. Open your mind and relax."

Byron stared at the man in front of him. He wanted a demonstration. Well, he'd give him one. He felt the man's aura. It teemed with raw power. He had never felt anything like it before! He saw a quick succession of images flash through the man's mind. Warfare. Two centuries of warfare. Brutal imagery. Men blown apart by land mines. Men with their bodies town in two by shrapnel and cannon fire. Others losing their heads in one on one combat. The most recent image was that of a brute of a man. A man that had wanted to enslave all mortals everywhere in the universe. Images of what the brute had done. Victims flayed alive. Victims boiled in oil. Victims encased in coffin like structures with hundreds of metal spikes lining the interior. And victims beheaded. He felt physically repulsed by all that he saw.

Then the imagery changed. A lone man on horseback riding under green shady trees. A farmhouse in the distance. A burnt out ruin of a farmhouse and what looked like arrows buried into the trees and into the wood frame of the house. Sadness. He felt immense sadness at what the man had witnessed. The death of his parents at the hands of a marauding band of Indians. Byron pulled back from within his mind and opened his eyes.

"I am told that by the standards of your race, you are a young one, yet you have seen so much death and destruction? How do you stay sane?"

"One day at a time, Byron. One day at a time."

The people assembled adjourned to the patio where three men were chained to a sturdy post. The remnants of their breakfast lay close by.

"Damned Immortals! You have no idea just who you're messing with! When the others find out, they'll take all of your heads!"

"Such brave words for a man about to die. You do realize that anything that happens here will stay here, right? That the method for your interrogation will be brutal in the extreme. That because of those methods, you can never be allowed to leave here alive. Just thought you should know."

The men blanched at the implication of Sheridan's statement. But one by one, their faces turned to those of steely resolve. They would reveal nothing to this upstart of an alien creature. A creature that called itself an Immortal.

"What do you think, Ramirez? A sharp blade to start with? Removal of a few segments of fingers perhaps?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps you should start with a less vital organ, like one of which they have two apiece?"

"I like that. So, gentlemen, which will it be? Lung or kidney?"

"You're insane! We have rights! You can't do this to us!"

"Correction gentlemen. You have no rights. You don't exist. In fact, we can find no trace of your existence in any database anywhere. To me, that smells of black ops. You know the risks associated with your jobs. Just consider this a new risk to look forward to. Ramirez? Would you hand me a dagger?"

"This knife is a ceremonial dagger of Egyptian heritage. It probably saw service during the reign of some Pharaoh. You should be honored that I will use it to extract a kidney!"

"Get that damned thing away from me! What are you? An animal!"

"Talk now. Last chance. Tell you what, tell me where you were going after your business in town and I'll not take your kidney?"

"A game ranch in west Texas. Pope County. That's all I know!"

"Game ranch eh? Ok. You can keep your kidney. But since you were the one I saw beating on that man, well, I'll be generous and start with your fingers. One knuckle at a time."

Behind him, Byron finally saw what Jake was attempting to do. Though Immortals were not trained telepaths in the sense of his own training, he could still feel the waves of mental power emanating from Sheridan. He was attempting to impart the images of torture onto the prisoner's mind. It was a decent attempt, but one that would not succeed without his more skilled talents. So he helped him, just a little.

The other two prisoners saw their friend scream in pain and anguish as he lost the tips of all fingers on his right hand. As their interrogator was preparing to move on to the next segment of the bloody fingers, the prisoner on the left spoke rapidly and loudly.

"It wasn't our idea! We were ordered to do these things by a very powerful man. He wants to be the next President of the United States! He promised us all Immortality once your secret was figured out! We would become like you! Stop! Please!"

"No. I want to know where the rest of your killing teams are."

"New York. Chicago. DC. Denver. And us here!"

"Ok. We'll stop after you tell me one more thing."

"What?"

"When are you supposed to arrive at the game ranch, and what is the name of the ranch?"

"A week from yesterday. Buck's Game Ranch."

"Thank you very much for the information. Inspector O'Day? Would it be possible to place these three someplace safe until we can resolve this matter?"

"Let me answer that. I think we can arrange something. Let me make a phone call."

"Of course, General."

----------------------------------------

"Foley."

"Ed. It's John. I need a favor."

"If it's in my power, sure. What do you need?"

"A place to stash three of the people responsible for the nationwide killings. There are more to track down, but we have three in our custody and well, Jack asked me to help on this."

"Where are you?"

"A ranch on the shores of Lake Alvarado in Texas."

"Give me a sec. How long you been in on this case, John?"

"Jack called me yesterday. Asked me to help out. Are we secure?"

"Always."

"One of these guys just implicated Kinsey. Not by name, but in a pretty decent description."

"Oh shit. He's the Chairman of the Intelligence Oversight Committee! Ok. Here's a place for you to stash those three. There's a small town in west Texas called Salt Flat. We have a secure facility there. What are you driving?"

"Lunar Shuttle."

"Ok. I'll get on the phone to the manager there. The facility is just outside of town. Set your transponder to 242.46, and you'll pick up the correct beacon."

"Thanks Ed."

"Anytime, John. Anytime."

----------------------------------------

"Alright. I've got a place for you. And it's in west Texas as well."

"Good. General, if you would take charge of the prisoners and get them to their destination, we'll go on to Pope county and set up a base of operations."

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_**West Texas**_

_**Pope County**_

Colonel Sheba had taken one of the shuttles and flown to Salt Flat, Texas. On her shuttle was General John Clark with the three prisoners. Duncan and Amanda had also gone along to watch over the prisoners. The rest had piled into the two remaining shuttles and flown to Pope County. Shuttles two and three had spilt apart over the county to do a quick and dirty mapping of the area and both had been tagged by a powerful airborne search radar. A few moments later, both had been tagged by a very powerful ground based radar.

"SGC. Hammond speaking."

"Sir. Jake Sheridan here. Just a quick question for you sir. We're over Pope County in Texas. The trail of these killers has lead us here. Both of my shuttles have just been 'tagged' by both a ground based and an airborne radar platform. But I swear sir, we can't see a damned thing either in the air or on the ground. Does the military have something going on in this area?"

"Do you know the type of radar, Mr. Sheridan?"

"The database indicates the airborne one was an AN/APG-66. The other one is AN/SPY-1."

"One moment while I check with NORAD."

Jake waited exactly four minutes before he had his answer.

"Mr. Sheridan. The AN/APG-66 type radar set is commonly installed on the F-16, and NORAD has none operating in your area at the moment. The AN/SPY-1 radar; well, that one is commonly found on an AEGIS class cruiser. While there are some test facilities that use them from ground based installations, there are none in your area. Please keep me updated. NORAD wants to know the reason for the inquiry."

"As soon as we figure out what's going on sir, I'll let you know. Thanks for the quick response. You have yourself a good day sir."

"Likewise, Ranger."

The fact that both shuttles had been tagged when operating in their supposed stealth modes had Jake a bit worried. The types of radar that had tagged him were also something of a concern, but as he could neither see any aircraft nor any ocean near him, he put the matter to the back of his mind. They put down in a rest area some tens of miles from the nearest town and it was decided that Jake and Byron would go in first using one of the two Hummers that had been left there for them for that purpose. The Air Force MPs had closed off the roads leading into the rest facility and there were now armed guards at the entrance and exit. Signs on the road leading to the rest station had been changed to reflect its unavailability. Both shuttles were now under camouflaged nets that had been strung through the few scraggly trees the station offered.

While the others were getting their equipment unpacked and ready for use, Jake and Byron drove the remaining few miles into town. It was a small town like any other in West Texas. The main street down the middle of town was also the highway. The sign post at the town limits read 'Boganville. Pop. 219'. There was a barber shop and drugstore that promised a lunch counter, a small office whose sign read 'Boganville Weekly', and a lot of people walking about. Strangely enough, almost all of them were dressed in white. White shirts or white pants, or white jackets. It was the damnedest thing Jake had ever seen. He pulled up in front of the local Sheriff's office and parked the HumVee. Both men exited the vehicle and entered the small Sheriff's station. A bell jingled overhead as the door opened.

"Howdy! You folks just passing through?"

"Something like that. Name's Jake Sheridan, Texas Ranger. This is my partner Byron Atkins. Is the Sheriff available?"

"You got her. Sheriff Caitlin O'Shannessy. How can I help you, Ranger?"

"Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff. We'd like some information about a game ranch in these here parts. Buck's Game Ranch I believe it was."

"Oh Lord. What've they done now?"

"Done? They've had trouble before?"

"Some years back, mid 80s it was. The Sheriff back then, Bogan was his name; town's named for his family. He used to pick up drifters and use them for hunts. He made a lot of money before some vigilantes took the Sheriff out. But things have been pretty quiet out there since then."

"I see. Might I ask you another question?"

"Shoot."

"Why do all the folks in this town have a thing for white?"

"Oh that. There's a small research firm up the road. All their employees wear something white. It's a company thing, or so I'm told. They like to come in to town to eat at LuLu's across the road there. Best BBQ this side of the Mississippi!"

"I'll take your word for it, Sheriff. Say, there wouldn't happen to be a motel or something round here?"

"Motel burned down last year. Hasn't been rebuilt. Sorry. Next town over has one though. About sixty miles as the crow flies."

"Thanks. How about a camping spot?"

"Well, we got an empty lot where the motel was. You can camp there if'n ya want. No law against it that I can think of."

"Thanks Sheriff. We'll be talking again soon. So what do ya say Byron, lunch?"

"Excellent suggestion, Jacob."

The two of them walked out of the Sheriff's office. Jake felt that the Sheriff had told the truth but had skirted a whole lot more than she let on. But while Jake might have only felt that, Byron knew it for certain. The minute they were in the HumVee and the privacy circuits engaged, Byron turned to Jake.

"She didn't tell the whole truth. I got a few images. She was broadcasting rather loudly in there. When you mentioned the people dressed in white, an image of a man dressed entirely in white came to her mind. A man with glasses and an eye patch. When she spoke of vigilantes, the image that was on her mind was of a big black and white…helicopter, I believe is the term. A helicopter that fired guns and rockets of some type at the former Sheriff."

"Interesting. She said it happened in the middle 1980s. Did she lie about that?"

"No. Why?"

"I was in the El Paso office during the 80s. If there had been a helicopter with guns and rockets shooting up a town, the Rangers would've heard about it. But nothing comes to mind. Hell, a helo with any kind of armament is military. The military doesn't just go off shooting up small town Sheriff's Office for any kind of reason. It might be something worth looking into. Let's head on back to our 'hotel'."

----------------------------------------

_**At the Same Time**_

Sheriff O'Shannessy had wasted no time in peaking out the window to get a look at the two Rangers. The HumVee was military issue which in of itself was odd. The second Ranger though, he had her really spooked though. He just stood there the entire time while Sheridan asked his questions, almost as if he were reading her mind. But that's silly! No one can read minds.

"Briggs."

"Michael, it's me, Caitlin."

"Caitlin! You've been too much of a stranger of late. You never write or visit. And now, a phone call out of the blue. Everything's ok?"

"For the moment, everything's fine. A couple of Texas Rangers just left here."

"Rangers? In Boganville? What did they want?"

"They were asking about the game ranch. And the thing is Michael, they left here in a military HumVee. It even has one of the tracking numbers stenciled on the rear bumper."

"Civilian law enforcement riding around in a military issue vehicle? That's almost unheard of. Did you get that number?"

"Yeah. Six-One-Two-Five-Nine-Five."

The man known as Archangel scribbled a note to an aide to check on that vehicle. The aide went to a nearby computer and accessed the military's database. The intelligence agency known in higher circles as the Firm had access to almost every database on the planet. They were still trying to figure out how to access those files that weren't on any kind of network anywhere. But their biggest challenge had come recently. They wanted, desperately wanted in fact, to access the databases of the Immortals and the Colonials. His aide handed him a slip of paper with the requested information

"Ok. According to the military, that particular vehicle is on loan to an Air Force outfit. Hmmm. Maybe it's time I went to visit you. I'll be there tonight. With String."

"Ok. I'll be waiting."

----------------------------------------

By the time Jake and Byron returned to the rest station, Colonel Sheba and the others had already arrived. While Byron went to get something to drink, Jake went over to talk to Clark.

"General, might I have a word?"

"Protector Sheridan. Call me John."

"Call me Jake then. Everyone else does."

"What's on your mind Jake?"

"Byron and I went in to speak to the local Sheriff about the game ranch. She was edgy and I picked up on it. Like she wasn't telling the whole truth. She gave us a pack of lies about what happened to her predecessor. Said a group of vigilantes gunned him down. The only thing truthful about her statement was the gunning down part. Byron picked up on her thoughts. He said she was 'broadcasting rather loudly'. The images he got were of a black and white helicopter with guns and rockets shooting at the Sheriff."

"Sounds military. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Something odd. It's a small town, population 219. But there just happens to be a research firm just north of town. I noticed that a lot of the townsfolk were wearing white. Dresses, pants, shirts, jackets. At least something on them was white. When I asked the Sheriff about that, Byron says an image of a man dressed entirely in white, with glasses and an eye patch flashed through her mind. And another thing, on our way here, we flew over the county to make some maps. We got 'tagged' by both airborne and ground based radars. NORAD, via the SGC, said that the airborne set goes with an F-16, while the ground based one belongs on an AEGIS cruiser."

"Ok. Now that is definitely weird. Let me check with my own sources to see if they know of anything."

"Ok. I'm going to go speak with the guard detachment we have. Something about this place sets the hairs on the back of my neck to rise up. Don't know what it is though that's causing it."

"Hmph. Trust those feelings Jake. Those kinds of feelings got me out of a lot of trouble in 'Nam."

"You were there, eh?"

"Yep. SOG."

"1st of the 7th. Ia Drang."

"That was a hell of a mess, or so I heard at the time."

"It was worse than that. Much worse."

"Ok. I've got a call to make."

"See you in a bit."

Whatever was making the hairs on the back of his neck rise up to attention was also affecting the Air Force detachment that was providing security for him and his team. After a quick chat with the Sergeant commanding the unit, Jake authorized the breaking out of weapons to all parties. It was just a feeling, but his feelings had saved him enough times for him to trust them implicitly.

The night was turning cold. Jake and his team sat around a campfire discussing strategy for the coming days. They all knew there was a serious deadline looming in front of them. The interrogations a few days before had revealed the coming meeting of the killing teams at the Game Ranch. Numerous options were put out and discarded as undoable, but they knew that they had to come up with something to infiltrate the ranch.

The map of the ranch showed a high perimeter game fence, and there were some strange readings on the sensors of that particular fence. It would require a stealthy recon to examine the fence up close and personal. General Clark intimated that some military installations had ground sensors around them, and that if this game ranch was indeed owned or rented by the Consortium, that the strange readings could very well be some sort of echo from that type of sensor. It put a thought into Amanda's head, and she went into one of the shuttles to pull up the sensor information from the military nets they had access to. She emerged a short time later with her discoveries.

"Jake, I checked on what General Clark mentioned. If this place does have ground sensors, then we could be in for some serious trouble making a ground approach."

"How so?"

"From what I could find out, those sensors have a radial range of approximately one mile, and odds are they are placed so that there is plenty of overlap in coverage. Usually they're set only to detect heavier objects like vehicles, but out here, they could be set to detect something lighter, like us for instance."

"Ok. That makes a ground approach rather difficult. Any suggestions?"

Before anyone could speak, there was a far off howl, like a wolf or coyote, and the search radar on the shuttle began screaming for attention. In one movement, everyone gathered around the fire ran to the shuttles. The screens showed a fast moving object, but whatever it was, it was heavily stealthed. The radar sets were having a difficult time tracking the object, but the speed indication was above Mach 1.

"Stealth fighter?"

"Can't be. The F-117A is only subsonic."

"What about the bomber version?"

"Also subsonic."

"So what is it, General Clark?"

"I have no clue Jake. There's nothing in the US Military inventory that's stealthed and flies above Mach 1."

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_**Research Firm**_

_**North of Boganville, TX**_

Caitlin had heard from one of the townsfolk that the rest stop south of town was closed for repairs. It had struck her as odd and so she had called in to a friend at the Texas Department of Highways and asked about the maintenance schedule. She had been informed that nothing was on the calendar for her neck of the woods, and she had passed that info along to Michael. He had, in turn, passed the info onto the String and St. John when they had arrived to pick him up for the hop to Texas.

As they approached the area of the rest stop, Stringfellow Hawke, pilot of the advanced helicopter ordered the whisper mode activated, and the quiet noise of the rotors became even quieter; less than a whisper in the night sky. They had hovered just out of visual range of the encampment and taken numerous photographs that were saved for later inspection. As they came in a little closer, the sensors aboard the helicopter detected the energy of an active radar sweep.

"String, active radar from the target area."

"Type?"

"AN/APG-77?"

"Was that a question, Michael?"

"Those are only supposed to be on the new F-22 Raptors. The targets down there sure as hell aren't Raptors!"

"Let's head back to base and go over the photos. Maybe Cait has found out something else."

"Sure."

The helicopter had rocketed away at over Mach 1, its engines screaming in their characteristic wolf-like howl.

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_**Encampment**_

"Whatever it was, it's gone now. Radar is quiet. Let's turn in. I'm gonna fire off a message to Mako on Luna to bring him up to date. I think we need to plan on being up and around by say, oh-eight-hundred?"

"Sounds good to me Jake. Means I get to sleep in a bit."

"Night John. Night all."

Jake engaged the privacy mode on the video communications array and contact Mako. He was surprised to find him still at his desk on Luna.

"What news Sheridan?"

"We're in place in an encampment just outside of the city of Boganville, Texas. It's a small place, population of 219. But there just happens to be some sort of research firm located just north of town. Our encampment is just south of town. Also, not sure if it's related to the matter at hand, but twice now, we've been 'painted' by radar sweeps that from everything we can find out, is either from an F-16, or an Aegis class cruiser. Now, considering just how far we are from the nearest ocean, I'm going to rule out the cruiser, but if it was an F-16, then it's also stealthed. That tells me it's probably some experimental model the military is testing, but General Clark is unable to find out for certain. Maybe you can discreetly poke around from up there?"

"I'll see what I can find out. What about the target?"

"That's going to be a tough nut to crack. We over flew the target area. There's a high fence around the perimeter, and what looks like ground based sensors inside and outside of the fence line. Unless we're invited in, it's going to be damned hard to sneak in. Those ground based sensors will pick us up a mile out. If we inserted a team via shuttle, well, we may have stealth tech on the shuttles, but they're still visible to the naked eye. We're still going over the data, but we're facing a time crunch. The other foot soldiers of the Consortium, according to what the interrogations revealed, are due to arrive at the game ranch by week's end."

"I'll check with the President. Maybe there's another way in. The man brought back a lot of technology from wherever he was, so maybe there's a technological way around the insertion problem."

"Thanks, Mako. By the way, just where did that guy Byron come from? I mean, he's a bit on the silent side, and I sense a bit of rage buried beneath his cool exterior. He said he's a Psi Cop, which I really have no idea what that means?"

"Apparently our President made a lot of friends wherever he was. Byron is a friend of someone he met. There are more like him, telepaths that is. They are fleeing persecution by their government for their special abilities. The Council has offered them asylum, and since he was a law enforcement officer, Marius asked me to give him a job, while he thinks on the Council's offer."

"Well, whether he's telepathic, or just damned insightful, he did help during the interrogations and during the interview with the local Sheriff today. If he stays on at Luna, it would be a good idea to hire him on permanently for the Protectorate Division."

"I'll take that under advisement, Sheridan. I'll get back to you after I've spoken with the President. Luna out."

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_**The Next Day**_

_**0630**_

The insistent chime from the communications array woke up Sheridan a little earlier than he had expected. The sun was just beginning to peek out on the horizon, but already the cool of the night was vanishing in the face of the building heat. It promised to be another hot day in West Texas. He looked through the cockpit window to the small seating area outside the shuttle and saw that one of the security detachment was making breakfast for everyone. 'I could certainly use a good cup of coffee' thought Sheridan.

"Good morning, Jake."

"Morning, Mako. Anything good for me?"

"Well, the Protectorate Division has been authorized the usage of some new equipment. Under Presidential authority, you are to return the three shuttles you have now to Luna to exchange them for one, possibly two SF model _Peregrine_s. I really think you'll only need one, but the President has authorized two for you if you so desire. It is a highly modified version of the _Peregrine_ Gunboat now in use by the Alliance fleet."

"A Gunboat? Uhm, I don't think we need that much firepower here?"

"Still, the Council is insistent that all PD personnel be issued these craft. They are more maneuverable than a standard LE shuttle, and they have more firepower in the event of an attack on the solar system. It has 3 decks; command and medical, engineering and berthing, and troop deployment. It has the standard stealth package of the LE shuttles, and it has a cloaking device that will render it invisible to the naked eye."

"Ok, that solves part of our insertion problem."

"There's more. The President and the Council have authorized the usage of personal cloaking fields for PD personnel. There aren't a whole lot of them in stock as yet, as they are rather low on the priority building list. We've been given six of them. We've also been given six 'mimic' devices. These will allow you to appear, at least externally, as any other person on the planet. Unfortunately, they have a very short display life. Only thirty minutes."

"Well, even thirty minutes can mean success in this situation. I'll wake up the other pilots and we'll head up there for our new ship. Only one, I think Mako."

"As you say, Jacob. I'll expect you within the hour."

"Sheridan out."

Jake walked out of the shuttle and made a beeline for the coffee pot. He inhaled the aroma like it was the nectar of the Gods and drank deeply from his first mug.

"Damn Sergeant! I haven't had coffee that good since I was in green like you! I thought I made good coffee, but that's really good. Is there a secret?"

"Were you Air Force, sir?"

"Nah. 1st of the 7th. Viet Nam."

"An officer?"

"Hell no. A corporal, if you can believe it."

The Sergeant, who had been calling him 'sir' for so long, had himself a good laugh. He felt more at ease around this Immortal now.

"A corporal. I'll be damned. I'd a thought you Immortals would be officers or some such."

"Others maybe. But I worked hard to stay a non-com. I took good care of the men under me, and made sure 'my' Sergeants always survived. But let me tell you what, that damn fiasco that's known now as Viet Nam, was a nightmare of Biblical proportions. And a clusterfuck of galactic size."

"Amen to that, sir."

"Call me Jake. Or if you have to use a title, try Ranger. I've been a Texas Ranger for so long that I don't think I'll get used to not being called that."

"Alright, Ranger. The secret to the coffee is to add a bit of salt to the brew mixture. It intensifies the flavor quite a bit."

"I can taste it. I think we're gonna need it today. Make sure there's always a full pot around over the next few days."

"You got it."

One by one, the rest of the team filtered in to the eating/seating area. Clark took one sip of the coffee and mumbled something that sounded like 'Port Gee', but Jake wasn't sure. He briefed the other two pilots on the call from Luna and the three of them went to the shuttles in preparation to leave. Ramirez was left in charge of the strike team, while Inspector O'Day and General Clark said something about making a supply run into town.

----------------------------------------

_**Luna**_

_**0800 CST**_

When Colonel Sheba had gotten her first look at the new Gunboat, all she had said was something about 'getting one for herself'. It was shaped like a fighter. It looked and smelled like a fighter, and later on, when they were flying it back to Earth, it performed like a fighter. If Jake didn't know any better, he'd swear she was in love with the thing. It had a full weapons suite that made the LE shuttles look like children's toys. A multi-barreled rail gun under the nose, something called pulse phaser cannons in the wing tips, and four micro-torpedo launchers in each wing, and a multi-barreled rail gun mounted on the ventral or bottom side of the craft, to either side of the rear loading hatch. Those last two guns were designed to provide covering fire for troops during recovery or deployment. But it was the personal cloaking fields that got Jake's attention. He put one on and activated it and promptly disappeared from view. He could see all around him clearly, but while Duncan could still feel his Quickening, he could not see him. 'With a dozen of these, the South would've won the war!' Jake thought.

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**Encampment**

**0930 CST**

The small ship came down in full stealth mode, with cloaking field engaged. It decloaked after it was on the ground, seated on its landing gear. The others in the campsite were startled to see the small craft in their midst, but they were expecting it. As had been done with the shuttles, camouflage netting was quickly thrown over the ship, disguising it from overhead. Clark and O'Day had left a short time earlier on their 'supply' run into town.

----------------------------------------

Clark and O'Day walked into the local diner and ordered some coffee and biscuits. Both were watching the crowd around them. Too many people dressed all in white. It would've been an odd thing to see in DC, let alone here in the middle of nowhere. Both looked up as a woman with fiery red hair approached their table. Both noticed the badge on her chest.

"You gentlemen passing through town?"

"Yes ma'am. On our way to the Guadalupe Mountains to do a bit of hiking. We had business in Odessa, but we got done early."

"I see. Well, hope you two have fun hiking. Y'all have yourself a good day now."

Clark looked at O'Day and saw the agreement in his eyes. The Sheriff had rather casually interrogated them. Both also agreed with Jacob. There was more to this town that than what was evident on its surface. They stopped at a small grocery store across the main street from the diner to pick up the 'supplies' the Sergeant had requested.

It didn't take them long to return to the encampment. Both shared their observations with Sheridan's team. Byron put in his own two cents. During the ruckus the night before, his mind had touched on the minds of three others, but he said those minds were not in the encampment. He could only guess that what ever aircraft was overhead had been the source, and because of that, he speculated that the aircraft had been close by. Jake took over the meeting and began handing out some new equipment.

"Alright folks. I have no idea what that aircraft was last night. Luna is unable to find anything out. General Clark is unable to find anything out. So either we have something really weird, or the military isn't telling anyone what they're testing. Personally, I'm hoping for the military answer, cause I think my life is weird enough as it is.

Next item. The new _Peregrine_ is a nice little ship, able to defend itself against anything we might encounter here on Earth, and anything Anubis or the Cylons might decide to send our way. Colonel Sheba is the only combat qualified pilot we have, so I'm giving her control of the aircraft. Sergeant Williams, the head of the Air Force detachment providing security to our campsite, is going to loan us two of his men to assist Sheba on the flight deck. They're in there now going over the systems.

"The Council has authorized all of us to draw weapons. While we were on Luna, word came in of another trio of killings. At the moment, we are unsure if they are related to the case at hand or if one of the killing teams was running behind schedule. As such, the Council acting through Mako have authorized the use of some new weapons. The first is something called a Type-1 phaser. President Marius called it a 'Cricket' but I have really no idea why, though. It's small and can be easily concealed somewhere on your person. It has eight settings, from light stun to heavy disintegration. It has a small battery, and is good for one hundred shots on the heaviest setting and four hundred on the lightest setting.

"Next is something called a Phased Plasma Gun or PPG. It has three settings; stun, kill, and burn. It has a smaller magazine, about two inches long called a cap. I want everyone wearing these in a holster, wherever you feel it the most comfortable. Try to keep your weapons on stun, unless there's no other choice. We've also been issued the heavier, rifle version of the PPG, called a Phased Plasma Rifle, or PPR. The cap on the PPG has a capacity of twelve stun shots, whereas the PPR has 64 stun shots. The PPR can also fire plasma and stun grenades. So if we need the additional firepower, we'll have it.

"The best part is that all of these weapons will be coded to your unique DNA, so if the bad guys take it away from you, all that will happen is that they'll get a shock; enough to drop them on the spot, like a Taser round.

In the event that one of us is hurt and requires medical attention, the medical bay on the ship has something called an Emergency Medical Hologram, or EMH. I'm told that the EMH can treat any injury better than the best equipped hospital on the planet.

"The last item is something that will help us on our first infiltration mission today. Our new ship has been equipped with a stealth field that renders it invisible to both RADAR and LIDAR, and a cloaking field to make it invisible to the naked eye. We've also been issued six personal cloaking fields. I'll walk into the ship and activate it. Tell me if you can see me?"

Jake walked into the ship, switched on the field, and walked out. The Immortals in the group could still sense his presence, and Byron could feel his mind, but none could see him. The field bent all visible light around the subject, rendering the wearer invisible to the naked eye. A quick check via a scanner showed the infra-red spectrum was also gone, showing no heat source where there should be one. Jake made a few circuits around the seating area before switching the device off. Plans were made to infiltrate with a three man team via the cloaked ship that evening. They would plant listening devices in as many rooms as possible, along with a few covert cameras to catch the men in question with the magic of digital film.

----------------------------------------

_**Research Center**_

_**The Firm**_

_**North of Boganville**_

_**1000 hours CST**_

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs was a unique man among the intelligence community. At the ripe 'old age' of fifty, he'd survived a goodly part of the bad old days of the Cold War. But not without scars, visible or otherwise. He'd seen too many good men and women killed, all in the name of protecting the US and its interests. And now all of that was over and the US and its former enemy, the Soviet Union, were supposed to be the best of friends. Hell, even Sergey Golovko, the head of what used to be the KGB, was friends with their own President! For the first time in his life, there was a man sitting in the seat of power in the United States that understood intelligence operations. The new President had increased the budget at the CIA, and that had trickled down to his own agency, known as The Firm.

When the time came to retire the aircraft the Firm had built, the aircraft code named _Airwolf_ it had instead been upgraded because of the influx of funds. The RADAR had been upgraded as had most of the systems, making it still as formidable an aircraft as the day it had rolled out of the construction hangar in California. It was unfortunate that with the discovery of alien technology in the hands of the Air Force, and now plainly evident in the solar system in the hands of the Immortals on Luna and the Colonials on Mars, that the helicopter known as _Airwolf_ was no longer unique.

Caitlin O'Shannessy had walked in with news of two strangers passing through town. Though she hadn't gotten their names, she did say their posture screamed 'COP' to her. Whoever was interested in Boganville was trying to be discreet about it, but failing miserably. Michael pointed at one of his aides, Marella, and she activated the wall screen and dimmed the lights. The first image was of the encampment just south of town.

"Infra-red showed a number of heat sources from the area you scanned last night. Looks like about a dozen people gathered around a campfire. These scattered six sources might be a roving patrol of some kind. There are also three faint sources here, here, and here, that may be vehicles of some kind. The telemetry you recorded has been verified as an active sweep of an AN/APG-77 radar set, of the type commonly found in the F-22 Raptor. Odds are, it was in passive mode, but it seems it might have picked up _Airwolf_ at the point when you started picking up the active targeting sweeps.

"The next images come from the surveillance cameras around town. This is from early yesterday, when the two Rangers showed up. The vehicle they're in, while not overtly military, is still military. The dark haired man has been positively identified as Jacob Sheridan, a former Texas Ranger, now living on Luna. The blonde man is a cipher. We can't seem to find anything at all about him. He's not associated with any law enforcement agency that we can determine.

"These images are from this morning. The rugged looking one we've identified as John Clark. From what we have access to, his official rank is that of Brigadier General, and he is supposedly currently in England, where he serves as the 'Six' in the Rainbow unit. The man opposite him is Patrick O'Day, a senior inspector with the FBI. Both of them are supposedly good friends with President Ryan. During the attempted kidnapping of the President's children late last year, Inspector O'Day happened to rescue the youngest of the President's children. Whatever is going on here, these men in the photos are definitely some heavy hitters."

"Speculation?"

"Caitlin did say that the Ranger and his partner were asking about the Game Ranch, so something is going on that we need to be aware of. We have a Lunar Resident, who odds are is an Immortal, the head of a multi-national anti-terrorist unit, and an inspector from the FBI that we've positively identified. Maybe we need to take a look around the Game Ranch ourselves?"

"I think you're right Marella. Let's plan it out for tonight. String, you and your brother take _Airwolf_ and get as much info as you can. I think Cait and Marella should go in the front door. Cait in the capacity of friendly local Sheriff helping out, Ms. Marella who is looking for a place to hold a corporate retreat?"

"Works for me Michael."

----------------------------------------

_**Buck's Game Ranch**_

_**1830 CST**_

The sun had finally gone down in the west. Caitlin and Marella had driven up to the main gate and had been let in by the staff at the Ranch. There were no other guests at the moment, and so the staff had treated the lovely lady in the white dress to the grand tour of the facilities, extolling on the virtues of West Texas for the corporate retreat she was attempting to organize. Outside, a hunter would be hard pressed to hear the silent whispering 'chop-chop-chop' of the stealthed helicopter operating in whisper mode, against the utter stillness of the twilight West Texas sky.

Michael sat at the engineer's position in the small-ish back cabin of the helicopter, watching over the various digital readouts and screens. For the era when the helicopter was originally created, the multi-function screens were a thing of the future. But now, they were more and more commonplace aboard military equipment. St. John Hawke sat in the co-pilot's seat, paying attention to the outside terrain, while his brother, Stringfellow, saw to the actual piloting.

"Picking up an intermittent signal on radar. Almost like an echo of us. Maybe those craft we took pictures of last night?"

"Give me one active sweep."

"Ok."

Elsewhere, but in the same area of sky, the cloaked _Peregrine_ was hovering over a spot near the main buildings of the ranch. A three man team had been deployed. Amanda, Duncan, and Clark had gone in to see what they could see and to plant as many audio and video bugs as they possibly could. All three were wearing the cloaking fields, and so were invisible to any staff they came across. Colonel Sheba was in the command chair, piloting the craft, with Corporal Joe Spears at the sensor/navigation console, and Sergeant David Dennis at the engineering/weapons console.

"Colonel, picking up an active radar. Airborne. Very near to us."

"Can you pin point it, Spears?"

"Yes! Got it. Bearing 322 relative. Distance three-quarters of a mile? Nothing on visual though."

"Continue to monitor. As soon as the strike team gets back, we'll try to see who it is."

"Roger that ma'am."

----------------------------------------

Sheriff O'Shannessy was busily jabbering away with one of the staff about the local events or lack thereof in Boganville, while Marella was taking the tour of the facilities, and attempting to be as covert as possible in placing the audio bugs. Duncan saw her as she placed one of them and nonchalantly picked one up so that they could examine it later. Clark and he were placing the recording devices in the rooms and hallways, while Amanda was examining the security systems to see what all the ranch had. There were two teams there, but neither team knew about the other.

It didn't take very long to accomplish their mission for the night, and the strike team withdrew, almost five minutes ahead of the other team. Duncan led the other two back to the pick-up point and waited for the _Peregrine_ to land and open the hatch for their withdrawal. By time they were back aboard, Spears had picked up the airborne target moving away at close to the speed of sound. Sheba made her decision quickly and followed the craft. It flew away to the west before turning north then back to the east, following a route designed to throw off any pursuit. But the cloaked ship stayed with them the entire time, making Coldsmith-Briggs think they did have some sort of atmospheric echo on the radar. Even when the helicopter settled down and taxied into the hidden hangar, he still thought it was an echo.

----------------------------------------

_**Rest Area Encampment**_

_**2030 CST**_

The _Peregrine_ was safely covered under the camouflaged netting and the team was meeting to discuss the presence of the helicopter. Clark had seen the woman at the ranch as she placed the bugs and was looking at the one Duncan had recovered. The woman had been unfamiliar to him, but she moved with the ease of a well-practiced professional. Now he was wondering if there was some other agency looking into the movements of the Consortium, or if their own movements had some how been revealed. He'd gotten on a secure circuit to Director Foley and had sent him the best images they had of the helicopter and of the listening device. The call back had taken less than a minute.

"John, what the hell have you people stumbled onto?"

"What do you mean?"

"The helicopter was supposedly an experimental model built for a little known intelligence agency back in the early to mid 1980's. It was reported destroyed during a weapons test. There have been rumors since then that it wasn't. If it is that helicopter, then a certain agency chief is gonna be brought in before me to explain why it's been kept a secret this long. As to the listening device, it looks like a standard NSA model. They're not running any ops in your area. I just checked on that. Whoever is out there has access to some powerful equipment. I'm gonna have to call Jack on this one. Better give Ding the heads-up…just in case."

"Affirmative. Get back to me either way."

"Count on it."

Back outside, Clark revealed most of what he had learned about the mystery craft. If they left a minimal force at the encampment, they could stage a raid of the so-called 'research firm' within the hour. Duncan's strike team had a reasonable amount of covert combat experience, but Clark would feel better with Ding's team on the ground. Course, since they had access to the _Peregrine_, that team could be on site with very short notice. Especially since he'd already passed along an alert message to his unit.

As it turned out, President Ryan decided to wait on using a Rainbow team. So Clark went with what he had and at 2130 hours, the strike team loaded up onto the _Peregrine_ and took off. They were in position over the target area within minutes of take-off. Colonel Sheba was holding them at a distance of three hundred feet off the ground, but darting from one position to another, conducting a quick active sweep, and then darting to a new position. She was trying to entice the other aircraft into perhaps playing a bit, before moving in with the strike team.

Sure enough, by the time the _Peregrine_ had completed its sixth dart and sweep maneuver, they saw the helicopter lift off and began a quartering search over the small research center. Jake and Clark were standing behind Sheba, and now Clark spoke.

"Attention to the unidentified helicopter. This Brigadier General John Clark. As I see things, we can do this one of two ways. That small helo of yours and my strike craft can duke it out, we'll win, and then we'll land a strike team to take your facility. Or we can talk in the open, where ever you'd like. Your ball."

"Our ball, then. Land here. We'll pull our security troops back. You can stay in your 'strike craft'. We'll stay in ours. Contact us on one-two-eight-point-nine, if you agree."

"We agree. Landing now."

The helicopter settled down onto its main gear, and all three occupants looked out at the space in front of them. They were waiting for some sort of aircraft to appear, and a few heartbeats later it did. Only it didn't land, it just sort of phased into existence not more than twelve feet in front of them. Each man in the helicopter appraised the craft in front of them differently. Michael Coldsmith-Briggs had the advantage of looking over the sensor data that told him the only thing in front of him was a small bird. St. John Hawke saw a craft built to fly among the stars; it looked fierce and mean and he had a sudden urge to fly one. Stringfellow Hawke saw a craft that was a match to his beloved _Airwolf_. The main gun underneath the nose was deployed, though he guessed it was always like that.

The wings of the strange craft before them were slightly down swept, and there were indentations on each wing; four indentations that they each guessed were meant to house weapons of some sort.

"General Clark, you copy?"

"We read you five-by-five. Showing a good encryption link on this side."

"Roger that. So, how do we start this?"

"Well, a name might be a good way."

"You can call me Archangel."

"Alright. Archangel. Tell me sir, what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that. What interest does the 'Six' of a multi-national anti-terrorist organization have in West Texas? For that matter, what about the FBI inspector you were traveling with? Or the Lunar resident?"

"You seem to know quite a bit about us, Archangel. Perhaps you can tell me why your lovely female agent was placing NSA issued listening devices at the Game Ranch? Or why you are in a helicopter that was supposedly destroyed during a weapon's test in the mid 1980s?"

"So you know something of us too. How about a face to face meeting? Just you and me?"

"I'm game. After all, the firepower of this ship can single handedly lay waste to this facility here and to your helo. I'll meet you outside. Channel off."

----------------------------------------

The two men stared at one another for a moment before either one spoke. The man calling himself Archangel had read over what little of the file was available on General Clark. He'd had a long and storied past with the agency having been recruited as a field agent by the late Admiral Greer, who himself had been a legend in the intelligence community. But the file on the man known as Archangel had not been available to Clark. Or to Director Foley for that matter. And that was something that needed correcting, as Clark saw it.

"So what is your interest in us, Archangel?"

"Let's just say I tend to get curious whenever strangers are poking around town. The research center here is charged with developing a lot of new tech for our armed forces. What's your interest in Buck's Game Ranch?"

"That, I'm afraid, is a matter of planetary security. But do tell your operative that she should be a bit more discreet when placing listening devices. My team mate saw her place the item, and he picked it up."

"Considering we were monitoring her the entire time and that we didn't see anyone else in the room, I find that highly unlikely."

"Doubting me is not a good idea at the moment. Show yourself to the nice Archangel."

Coldsmith-Briggs was momentarily taken aback by the sudden apparition of another person. The very air around him seemed to shimmer for a second as the man with dark hair appeared, only to shimmer again as he vanished. A few seconds later, he appeared again, only this time, Archangel was staring at himself! Then the doppelganger disappeared, vanishing into the night.

"You definitely have my attention now, General. It looks like you have access to the technologies of the so-called Ancients. I think you just might swing a mighty big bat."

"I've been known to play a bit. So how about we both back off some and meet at, say, 0900 for coffee at that nice little diner in town? My security people and yours can clear the place out before hand and sweep it if necessary."

"Nine a.m. it is."

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_**LuLu's Diner**_

_**Boganville, Texas**_

_**0900**_

It was amazing what one could do with a credit card in a small town like this, especially one drawn on the Immortal Bank of Luna. Jake had flashed the card at the owner and the diner suddenly became his for the duration of this meeting. Duncan's team had swept the diner for listening devices, then took up guard positions outside and inside. It was a testament to their combined paranoia over the current case when John Clark placed what he termed 'interference generators' around the restaurant and on the windows, to prevent anyone else from listening in. The shades were drawn down over the windows, to prevent anyone from visually recording the meeting for later lip-reader analysis.

They had worked quickly after their arrival, and had arranged a table and chairs in the middle of the small diner. The PPR rifles were plainly evident on the guards roving outside and all those inside wore PPGs in holsters that were obvious.

Their guests arrived at three minutes to nine, in a three vehicle convoy. Outside the diner, Amanda and Cierdwyn watched as men in white suits, with heavy weapons exited the lead and trail vehicles and took up positions opposite them. Though both women were holding PPR rifles, both also had their swords across their backs. Three men and two women walked into the diner where there were six people seated and having coffee, chatting amiably. Jake's team all stood up when the others walked in.

"Good morning, General. On time I see. That's a good start. How's the coffee this morning?"

"I don't know. We brought our own. You're welcome to some though."

"Morning, Ranger."

"Morning Sheriff. I didn't expect to see you here this morning."

"Oh, I've known Archangel for a number of years, and since this is my town, I felt I had to be here."

"Ok."

"I looked up your record. Impressive. Are you still with the Rangers?"

"No ma'am. I retired some months ago, after the news about Immortality broke. With that in the open, well, I didn't have to hide who I am anymore. Now I'm with the Immortal Protectorate Division."

"I see. So, how long have you been alive then?"

"Pretty direct, aren't you?"

"When I need to be, yes."

"I'll keep that in mind. I was with a Ranger Company back before the States War. I joined up as a cavalry officer on the correct side. Unfortunately, the correct side lost the war. I went through dozens of battles without a scratch, but some lucky Union rifleman got me at the end. I daresay, I was dead before I hit the ground. I woke up in a hospital tent as a prisoner of the Union Army."

"So you were Immortal before or after that?"

"We all start out like you Sheriff. Perfectly human. We age normally. But if we happen to die, then the gene that controls Immortality is activated and releases a surge of energy that in effect jump starts the heart, and from that point on, we don't age, we don't become ill, and we live forever."

"Must be nice, living forever that is."

"It's not. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"That's because we haven't introduced ourselves yet. My name is Marella."

"Just Marella?"

"Yes. So, is it nice? Living forever?"

"No. One would think it is, to see the world around you as it changes, but having outlived several dozen adopted children and several wives, I'd have to say it basically sucks. It has its moments though. So, allow me to introduce my team here? I'm Jacob Sheridan, Protector. This here is John Clark, whom I believe you are aware is the Commander of the Rainbow organization. Next to him is Inspector Patrick O'Day of the FBI. The fellow brooding over there is Duncan MacLeod, leader of our strike team. The tall blonde dressed all in black is Byron Atkins, also with the Protectorate Division. And this lovely lady is Colonel Sheba, of Mars."

"Immortals and Colonials in the same room with us? After trying and failing to get an audience with your two governments for so long, I should be so lucky to find you in a small West Texas town. I've either gone insane or maybe I should buy lotto tickets for tonight?"

"You look pretty sane to me, but then again, you do call yourself 'Archangel'."

"He has a point Michael. I think I'm gonna like you, Ranger. Name's Hawke. Stringfellow Hawke. Pilot. This is my brother Saint John Hawke, also a pilot. And I believe you've already met Cait."

With the introductions out of the way, the two groups sat down to begin their talks.

"So, want to tell us why you are interested in Buck's Game Ranch?"

"At the end of the week, several men are expected there. A bit of rest and relaxation before continuing their mission. They will meet with their leader who will assign them a new set of tasks. These men are responsible for murdering at least sixteen people in the United States. Three other murders have not been conclusively linked to them. One of the people killed was an instructor pilot the Colonials had loaned to Nellis in Nevada, hence the involvement of Colonel Sheba in this matter. We're not entirely sure of the goal of the murders but it seems to be an attempt to scare the citizens of the US into distrusting the Immortals and the Colonials. Again, all we have so far is circumstantial evidence, and the word of one man, but the leader is a man running for the highest office in the land."

"The man who serves as Chairman of the Intelligence Oversight Committee?"

"That's the one."

"He's mad!"

"That's our thinking too. We're not going to arrest him just yet. We caught a lucky break last week in learning of the meeting place ahead of time. That's why we're here. We bugged the place but good last night. We hope to monitor as much as possible so we can get hard evidence against him. Evidence that can be used in a court."

"Is that why you're camped out outside of town?"

"Well, there are no bases in the area, and we do need to be close to monitor the feeds."

"Move your base camp to our research center. We have a hangar you can use, and the on-site kitchens can provide you with food. The combination of your security teams and our own should make your mission a fairly safe one."

"Is there a catch?"

"Just one. A chance to meet with your governments. At one time, The Firm was the leading intelligence agency in the field of weapons research. It seems now that we aren't. We'd like the opportunity to re-take that title."

"I don't speak for my Government, sir, but I will forward your request to the Immortal Council."

"Excellent. Then you can move out there today, as soon as we're done here. I'd love the opportunity to examine that craft of yours!"

"Hell, I just want to fly it. See how it compares with the Lady."

"The Lady, Mr. Hawke?"

"_Airwolf_. The helicopter we were in last night."

"Ahh. Ok. I'm not a combat experienced pilot, sir. I have had basic flight training, as a part of my duties require me to visit our various embassies around the Alliance, but I have nowhere near the experience that our President does, or even Colonel Sheba here."

"You're a combat pilot?"

"Yes. Strike group leader for the _Galactica_. I fly the Viper Mk II, but after flying that _Peregrine_ gunboat, I might not ever fly a Viper again."

"That little ship you were in last night is a gunboat? All I saw was the gun under the nose."

"A multi-barreled rail gun, firing trinium projectiles. That gun will punch a hole through six feet of structural steel, and keep on going. But when you add the cannons and torpedo launchers in the wings, and the twin pair of guns at the rear ventral side, I can see why the Alliance is planning to use those as command ships for the fighter squadrons. But I'm told that the Colonial fleet will begin integrating the new SA-32A _Thunderbolt_ fighters that the AIS _Halsey_ has in her squadrons, and also that the Colonial military is interested in producing a few prototypes of the SA-43 _Hammerhead_ interceptors for trials. Frankly, I'm anxious to see how the new fighters will compare to our Vipers."

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_**FIRM Research Center**_

_**Friday Evening**_

_**North of Boganville, Texas**_

They had gathered in a conference room at the FIRM's research center. The main topic on the various news programs was about the recent beheadings in Denver, Washington, DC, Chicago, and New York. Twelve more killings in what was being called a campaign of terror launched by the Immortals in an effort to take over the United States. There were leaked documents coming out of DC, allegedly from the FBI, that purported to this conspiracy. It was something that was so far from the truth as to be almost laughable. The various surveillance devices planted at the Game Ranch began to pick up activity and so all eyes and ears moved to the various monitors displaying and broadcasting the feeds from there. Though there was voice comparison software running through the voices coming from the feeds, it had yet to identify any voices. It was far too early for that as yet.

"_Any news on Team 3?"_

"_I heard something on the radio about an attempted kidnapping that went bad cause the local Sheriff happened to be delivering a subpoena next door to the kidnap attempt."_

"_If that was their effort, then Team 3 had a very bad day. I wonder if the Senator has any info for us?"_

"_Nah, probably just more killings. Ya know, I'd rather be killing Immortals than these wannabes."_

"_Can Immortals be killed? I mean, isn't that like a, whatchacallit, an oxymoron?"_

"_The Senator seems to think that there is a method of killing the real thing. But hell, what do I know? I'm only a grunt."_

"_Man, if you're just a grunt, and you're the one in charge of our team, then what does that make me?"_

"_Hell if I know. Anyone know what ranks less than a grunt?"_

"_Beats the shit outta me."_

"_Gentlemen? I trust all went well with your assignments?"_

"_Yes sir."_

"_Team 3 will not be joining us this evening. They were captured in an attempted kidnapping. All knowledge of them has been disavowed. Now then, you've carried out your assignments quite well and the resulting media furor over these incidents has been fueled by well timed leaks to the press. I think that one more round of killings is in order before we take this operation overseas. Team 1 will remain behind after the rest of us leave. You are to sanitize this location. Leave no witnesses behind that might identify us. Team 2 will proceed to alternate location four. Accomplish your mission there, then proceed to London to commence operations there. Team 4, you are to proceed at once to Japan to begin looking for your targets there. Team 5, head for Russia._

"_Gentlemen, you have exceeded all of my expectations. After the people make the right and only correct choice in November, you will be given assignments that will reflect your good service to your country. Half of you will be sent to oversee our Lunar Colony, the other half to our Martian Colony. Once there, as long as you can produce whatever we need to defend this great nation of ours, you will have a freehand to do whatever is necessary._

_For now, let us enjoy all the creature comforts that men of our stature and power have come to expect. I've had a number of female companions flown in especially for this night. Enjoy your liberty pass gentlemen. And remember, Team 1. No witnesses. Have fun gentlemen."_

"Anyone have any idea where location four is?"

"Not a clue, Mr. Hawke. Not a clue."

It was the only question that had come to his mind at that instant. But even then, their minds were filled with horror at what these men had planned. The implications for the upcoming national election were scary at best, terrifying at worst. The implications for the fledgling Alliance were even worse. The more immediate problem was getting the employees of the Game Ranch out alive, plus the 'professional' women that had been flown in with the good Senator. Plans were made to raid the ranch after the other teams had left and only the three members of Team 1 were to be present. Plans were also made to insert a cloaked six person team immediately, so that they would be able to plant as many bugs in the baggage and clothing of the other teams to arrest them after the left the ranch.

Early the next morning, three teams departed by vehicle and the remaining team made ready to clean up the site. The departing vehicles had been tagged during the night with GPS tracking devices. Each person on the Consortium killing team now had a shadow of two cloaked raiders.

"Hey Frankie! How we gonna do this?"

"Double tap to the head. The ladies are still asleep, but I know the staff is awake. I already had my coffee. I say we call them all in to thank them for their services and terminate them with extreme prejudice at that time. Then we each have some more fun with two or three of the ladies and then off them too. Done deal."

"Did you get with that redheaded one last night? The one that was petite? She looks like that damned Fibbie that put away that Black Lunged Bastard Spender. Man, she gave me some great head. Wish I could keep her stashed away someplace."

"Hell yeah. I'd love to keep that Scandinavian blonde! Boy let me tell you what, she did things with her cunt that could make a gay man straight!"

"Nah, if'n I had my choice, I'd keep that little Mexican gal. Damn, but she has one hell of a tight ass! And damn, but everything else about her was the best I've ever had! Think the Senator would mind if'n we each kept one?"

"Hell man, what he don't know won't hurt 'im. I say we hit our 'chosen lovelies' with a tranq dart, then take care of the rest of them. First though, let's take out the staff. Then we'll have plenty of time to have some more fun. We can leave tonight. Clean up your brass. No evidence, boys."

The entire conversation had been monitored and recorded both at the FIRM's research center, and aboard the cloaked _Peregrine_ hovering over the ranch. The EMH was already online and prepped to receive wounded. The three killers moved into the kitchen area and began to thank them for their hospitality. On a secured and encrypted radio, the strike team members heard three clicks. Three of them pulled their Zats up and took aim. On the next click they heard, all three fired. Bolts of electrical energy appeared from nothingness and struck the three men, dropping them to the ground a second later. One of the staff had the presence of mind to say 'Holy Shit!' as the men dropped to the ground and the six member strike team materialized out of thin air.

"Nobody move!"

"What the hell? Who the hell are you people?"

"FBI! Don't move sir!"

"FBI! Do you have a warrant? How in the hell did you get in here?"

"Special circumstances, sir. No warrant necessary. My name is Patrick O'Day. Inspector, FBI. These men were planning to kill all of you and then kill the women in the other rooms. You people have unfortunately seen someone that did not want to be seen."

"Kill us? For what? For seeing that pompous jack-ass of a Congress Critter that flew in yesterday?"

"That would be the someone you weren't supposed to see."

"Rat bastard ain't gettin' my vote! You folks want some coffee or vittles maybe? While you get them in irons, that is?"

"It's not necessary, but if you wouldn't mind?"

A few minutes later, the _Peregrine_ had landed outside and the remaining members of the Air Force security team had streamed inside and rounded up the hostages, or guests that didn't know they were hostages. Within some ten minutes of the security team moving in, a stream of white vehicles from the FIRM had arrived and disgorged enough specialists so that each person that had been tagged for death now how their own shadow. The women would be put into protective custody, until after the trial. The staff of the Game Ranch were happy to note that the FIRM had made an offer to purchase the facility and that they would remain open after this little fracas as a corporate retreat.

It was a train crossing in the middle of nowhere, but the guard bars were down and the signals were ringing. The three vehicles that had left the game ranch an hour earlier stopped. The driver in the lead vehicle looked left, then right, and saw a short train on the approach. He was in no rush to get to El Paso. The fourth strike team would meet them there, and they had planned to go into Juarez for a little fun that night. As the train approached, it seemed to slow, though the driver figured it more of an optical illusion, especially considering all that he had drunk the night before. He still had one killer of a hangover.

The passenger in the lead vehicle had his window down as he was enjoying a smoke. He heard a far off whine, that sounded like the howl of a wolf. Which was strange, because as far as he knew, there were no wolves in this desolate part of Texas. Only coyotes hereabouts, or so the staff at the ranch had told him.

The train was slowing down. The men in the three vehicles tensed as they reached for their holstered weapons. As the train pulled to a stop, the vehicles were rocked by the jet wash of a low flying supersonic aircraft. Fire erupted around them an instant later. Someone had them bracketed but good. A line of machine gun fire was stitched close to the doors on either side of their vehicles. They looked at one another as what could only be commandoes streamed out of the train, and surrounded them. All of them gave up without a fight.

The three killing teams were rounded up, hand and leg cuffed, and then blindfolded. They were marched single file up a ramp of some kind and then everything went dark as they were hit with some sort of tranquilizer. The three vehicles were pulled up next to the train, and loaded onto the flatbed cars. The train started up once again, taking the next side track that would bring it back to the FIRM.

The operations in Boganville were now complete. Sheba had ferried the twelve new prisoners to Salt Flat, and then returned to meet the others at the research center.

"Well Ranger Sheridan. You people sure know how to run an Op. Been awhile since I've had to run something like that. It's a good thing though. The bad old days of the Cold War are long behind us. Hell, the Russians I fought for so long against are now our best friends! Our President has been in the Chairman's Office at the KGB, and that man has in turn sat in the Oval Office having a cup of coffee with our President! If you had told me something like that would ever happen back in the Cold War, I'd a had a good laugh!"

"Ran a few Ops behind the curtain, eh?"

"More than a few. Did you, General?"

"Helped Gerasimov get out of the country."

"That was impressive!"

"It was at that. But your operation here, to have flown for so long under the radar as it were. How in the world did you accomplish that?"

"It wasn't easy. And unfortunately, our sponsor who's helped us for so long is apparently a power mad politician."

"But most of them are just that, Michael."

"Yes they are, String. But maybe, just maybe, we have for once a man in the Oval that isn't power mad. You know him best, General. What is your take on John Patrick Ryan?"

"How much do you know about him?"

"Well, I've heard the rumors, of his tenure as the DDI, but some of those rumors are just too outlandish to consider as truth! I mean, the best one I heard was that when he was just an analyst he helped to capture a Soviet submarine. I also heard that he managed to get on the Hotline and helped to avert a war between ourselves and the Soviets. Better yet, was the operation in Columbia."

"All of them true. I won't swear to the submarine as I wasn't there. But I was on the ground helping him find out the truth of the nuclear terrorist attack on the US, and I was the point guy in Columbia. That operation was chaired by Cutter and put together by Ritter, the then DDO. But as soon as Jack found out that the support to the troops in the field was cut off, he went down personally and got them all out. I've seen a lot of operators come and go during my stay with the Agency. Jack Ryan is one of the good guys. The man had no desire to be President. And he still doesn't want to be there. But he recognizes that he's been given one of the rarest gifts ever. The gift to put things back the way they were meant to be in the beginning. Sure, yes, things have changed. We know we're no longer alone in the universe, and we've learned we're not the only ones that call Earth, home. But if it all this had happened with Kinsey in office, well, I'd rather not think about that."

"I'm guessing you're going to tell me that the DCI wants the FIRM to come in from the cold?"

"Director Foley does want to meet with your people. But, I will put in a good word for you and your folks here."

The small plastic piece of something or other on the back of Sheridan's wrist beeped twice.

"What the heck is that?"

"Comm link. Excuse me a moment please."

----------------------------------------

"Sheridan here."

"Protector Sheridan. I need a status report please."

"We've got all the little fish, Mako. Once we interrogate them, we should have enough evidence to convict Kinsey in any court anywhere."

"Excellent job! I knew you could handle it. And what of the other situation there?"

"I believe we have some new friends here. And they would like to meet Marius and the Colonial President."

"That can be arranged. Why don't you bring them on up here today? Bring all the prisoners as well. Our new Klingon residents have some rather interesting methods for interrogation. It may prove quite entertaining."

"We'll be up there soon. Sheridan out."

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"Well, you heard the man. If you really want to meet Marius and the Colonial President, it can be done today."

"Definitely."

"Very well then. Just you, Archangel?"

"I'd like to take my aid, Marella. And the Hawke brothers. And our lovely local sheriff, if she can skip out on her duties for a bit."

"Sure! I have a deputy available at the moment."

"Colonel Sheba? Think you could arrange for President Tigh and Commander Apollo to join us on Luna?"

"As you Tau'ri are so fond of saying, done deal."

It was all over with except for the arrest of the idiot in charge and the ensuing trial. Five three-man killing teams had been taken off the streets.

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_**Luna**_

_**Offices of the President**_

There were several people now in the office. Sheridan and his team, Inspector O'Day and General Clark, Mister Byron, Colonel Sheba, and the five people from the FIRM. They had joined Marius and two of his top aides, Marcus Constantine and Nefertiri.

"So, all went well Protector Sheridan?"

"Quite well, Mr. President. The killing teams are in the hands of the FBI and are being interrogated. They are being kept in a quite little prison in rural Virginia now and are awaiting trials. The evidence provided by them has led to several seizures of off-shore accounts controlled by Kinsey and his organization. There is evidence of his use of that money for his campaign as well, in clear violation of Federal Election laws. The trial should prove quite entertaining."

"I imagine it would be. Any idea when his arrest is scheduled?"

"Soon. Very soon."

"Excellent. I hate to be involved in politics, but Kinsey is just an accident waiting to happen. He would set back relations between Alliance members by decades at best. I'd hate to think what his intentions would be for the other Earth-based governments."

"Well, he'll have plenty of time to contemplate that in prison."

"Amen to that, Protector. Amen."

"So, Mr. Coldsmith-Briggs, I understand you wanted to meet with me?"

"Please Mr. President, call me Michael."

"Only if you call me Marco. At least among friends."

"Marco. The FIRM is very interested in a joint venture with your development bureau to create newer and better weapons for our militaries."

"I've read Protector Sheridan's report regarding your _Airwolf_ helicopter. I must say, that for the time when it was created it was the most advanced flying machine of its type. These days, however, it is rather antiquated."

"But it served a purpose then and it still does today."

"True. A stealthy platform with a top speed of Mach one-five. That's something even the US government hasn't been able to build. But with the cloaking technologies at our disposal, it makes it obsolete."

"I'll grant you that point. But still we'd like to develop a follow on version, perhaps for use as an infantry support craft for your ground forces?"

"The idea has significant merit, Michael. Our ground forces, when they are deployed on a planet, use a combination of VTOL fighters and helicopters to provide long range strike and close air support capability. But it means that we can only carry so many of a particular type. If we were to consolidate that force multiplier into one unit, I imagine it would be something like this follow-on version you're postulating."

"It seems we're thinking alike on this one."

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_**American University**_

_**Presidential Debate**_

It was a standard debate format with first one candidate, then the other, answering a list of prepared questions, asked by a moderator. At the end of this first debate, time permitting, three people who had been 'randomly' chosen, would be allowed to ask a pre-screened question to the candidates, and both would be given ninety seconds to respond.

Kinsey was already on the record as wanting to shut down what he called a 'Pandora's Box'. Ryan, on the other hand, kept pointing to all the good things that had come to Earth and the United States as a result of the Stargate. Kinsey pointed to the fact that the US military had acted recklessly and Ryan pointed to the fact that the US Military had initiated contact with advanced races that were even now helping improve life on Earth. Their jabs and punches went back and forth, Kinsey blaming Ryan for everything wrong with the country, and Ryan calmly explaining why things were they way they were. Then it came down to the final three questions, asked by three 'randomly' selected members of the audience. Unbeknownst to Kinsey, two of the three had been purposefully pre-selected and given pre-written questions by Arnie van Damm.

"Senator Kinsey. My name is Ronald Stackmoore of Maryland. Tell me sir, if elected, will you honor the treaties signed under President Ryan's administration with the Immortals, the Colonials, and the other aliens?"

"I will honor them to a point. Sure, there is some good that has come from these treaties, but the overall picture is bleak. Our being a party to the Alliance means loosing our independence. Neither the United States in particular nor the Earth in general, I believe, is ready to give up the sense of freedom that our ancestors fought so hard to achieve."

"Mr. President, you have ninety seconds to respond."

"Thank you. The treaties worked out by the diplomatic teams of the United States have proven to be a boon for our economy. Using technology from the Immortals, we've managed to offer a blind person their sight; we've begun production on a cure for so many suffering from AIDS, and production on a vaccination against the virus that causes this dreadful disease. We've been offered trade deals that would allow the US to produce cheap and clean electrical power, and a new job market that we can export our citizens to. And of course, there are at present a dozen or so American companies producing the new personal food replicators that hold the promise of an end to world hunger."

"Mr. President. I am Sean Connors of Illinois. Tell me sir, given the recent attacks on the United States by terrorists using aircraft and biological weapons, what is your opinion of the current state of Earth?"

"I think it's time the people of Earth grew into their own and realized that there is a great big universe out there. Our destiny lies as much here on Earth as it does in the stars. Our ancestors came to the Americas and explored its lands because that need for exploration, for seeing new places, exists in us all. If we can manage to overcome our differences with one another, then we will be in the best position to expand quickly. Each and every culture on this planet can contribute something towards that end. But first, we have a war to win. And while it may not be entirely of our making, the goal is basic survival. Our brethren have come across the sea of stars to find sanctuary with us. They have, unfortunately, been pursued by an enemy that wants to extinguish all human life. This cybernetic enemy is attempting to do to the entire human species, what we stopped Hitler from doing to the Jewish people."

"Senator Kinsey, you have ninety seconds to respond."

"We have enough problems here on Earth without inviting the troubles of other races. The God I believe in will not allow His children to fade from His great plan."

"Senator Kinsey. I'm Caitlin O'Shannessy, Sheriff of Pope County, Texas. Why did you send killers into our communities to behead innocent men and women?"

"I beg your pardon! I've done no such thing!"

"I have proof of this, Senator. Undeniable proof of your orders as given to fifteen men. Orders to travel to different cities to execute innocent citizens, so that we citizens would have a fear of Immortals and of Colonials."

"I have done no such thing! How dare you accuse me of murder!"

Behind the two men on the stage at the American University in Washington, DC, a number of men and women in suits had appeared. All wore badges, and it did appear as though all were armed.

"Senator Kinsey. Good evening. I'm Inspector Patrick O'Day of the FBI. You sir, are under arrest."

"On what charge?"

"Conspiracy to commit murder. Conspiracy to kidnap citizens of the United States, of Immortal Luna, and of Colonial Mars. Conspiracy to defraud the people of the United States. Treason against the United States. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, note that anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be appointed by the courts. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"You can't do this! Do you realize who I am? I will be President! Get away from me! You can't do this to me!"

Kinsey struggled against the men on the stage for all of about ten seconds, before he was knocked to the ground and cuffed. A moment later he was led away by Inspector O'Day.

----------------------------------------

_**US District Court**_

_**Washington, DC**_

_**Arraignment**_

"Docket number 101506, the People versus Robert Kinsey. The charges are treason, espionage, thirty-one counts of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, twenty counts of attempted murder, fraud, conspiracy to commit fraud, and violations of the Federal Electoral Statutes."

"Quite a busy man you've been Mr. Kinsey."

"That's Senator Kinsey, your Honor."

"Not anymore. I was handed this bit of information just before I came in here. The US Senate voted unanimously just about an hour ago to strip you of all your titles. I'm told the Governor of Maryland has already chosen someone to replace you, Mister Kinsey."

"What! You fucking idiots! You can't do this to me! I'm going to be the President! I was promised that long ago! You can't do this to me!"

"Councilor, control your client!"

"Calm down Robert! Calm down and shut up!"

"You're all against me! You want to see me fail! Well, I won't have it!"

"Bailiff! Silence that man! I'm ordering a psychiatric evaluation of your client. If it is determined that he can aid in his defense, I'll hear his plea at that time. Court is in recess for fifteen minutes!"

"That's not necessary, your Honor. My client has instructed me to plead not guilty to all of the charges against him."

"Very well, the plea of 'Not Guilty' is entered on behalf of Robert Kinsey. However, the order for a psychiatric examination still stands."

"Of course, your Honor."

----------------------------------------

The headlines around the US the next day all showed the same picture of the former Senator Kinsey being led out of a courthouse in Washington, DC, in a straight jacket. And with the elections to be held in less than a month's time, Jack Ryan was all but assured of victory. The citizens of the United States could tolerate many faults in the men they elected to the Presidency, but treason was not one of them. Nor was murder.

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_**US District Court**_

_**The People versus Robert Kinsey**_

It was a calm and crisply clear day in late October when the Honorable Thomas Wilson entered his court room. At the defense table was Robert Kinsey, former Senator from the state of Maryland, and his team of highly paid defense attorneys. Though their job was to defend him, all felt that the evidence against Kinsey would be too overwhelming for the Jury.

At the opposite table sat the Attorney General for the United States, who had elected to prosecute this man himself, for the heinous crimes he'd ordered against his fellow citizens.

"Mr. Martin, are you ready to begin your case?"

"I am, your Honor."

"Then please, proceed."

"The prosecution calls Jack O'Neill."

Several heads craned around to see the USAF Colonel, resplendent in his blue Class-A uniform with full ribbons, stride up to the witness' stand.

"Please raise your right hand and place your left on the Bible. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do."

"Please be seated."

"Would you state your name and occupation, for the record?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill United States Air Force. Currently assigned as second-in-command at Stargate Command under General Hammond, and team leader of SG-1."

"Very good, Colonel. The man on trial here today, Robert Kinsey. Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately."

"When did you first meet him?"

"The good _**ex**-_Senator turned up at the SGC near the end of our first year of operation. He was there to shut us down, claiming that the 'Gate was a danger to Earth."

"Is it a danger?"

"It's true that since we opened the Stargate we've made some serious enemies out in space, _but_ we've also made some very powerful friends as well."

"I see. Did Mr. Kinsey succeed in shutting down the Gate?"

"He did for a short while."

"What happened?"

"We'd received intelligence that a Goa'uld System Lord named Apophis was planning to launch an attack on Earth. He was coming by ship, two ships actually. At the time the most the combined military powers of Earth could do would be to maybe launch a missile or launch one of our unarmed shuttles. We would have been slaughtered from orbit."

"But we weren't, were we?"

"No sir. My team and I 'Gated to the world where the ships were in orbit. We were able to disable the shield generator on one ship and force it into colliding with the other ship, destroying both."

"But before you were able to do that, Earth launched a missile attack, is that correct?"

"Yes. The missiles were launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base. These were nuclear warheads enhanced with naquadah. The idea was to target one missile at each ship and blow it from the sky."

"What is naquadah, Colonel?"

"It's the primary mineral used in the Stargate, and used by virtually every technology used by the Goa'uld. When added to a nuclear device, it increases the explosive power by several orders of magnitude."

"I see. Continue, please."

"Well, Vandenberg launched only two missiles. The Goa'uld did nothing to stop them. They didn't have to. They have these force fields that surround their ships. The missiles detonated harmlessly against the shields. So we went back to our plan. The charges had already been placed. It was just a matter of finding a way off the ship before they went off."

"Since you're here to testify, I'll assume that you found a way off the ship."

"We did. And we managed to steal two of their fighters in the process. Fighters that we've since studied and reverse engineered to build human versions of."

"But Kinsey had shut down the program, correct?"

"Yes. But the President felt it was more important to start it up again."

"The world owes you a great debt, Colonel."

"It was nothing."

"I have nothing more for this witness at this time your Honor, but the prosecution reserves the right to recall Colonel O'Neill should it become necessary."

"Very well. Mr. Hodges, do you have any questions for this witness?"

"I do, sir."

"Proceed."

"Colonel O'Neill, were you not at one time charged with the attempted assassination of Robert Kinsey?"

"Those charges were dropped. A case of mistaken identity."

"Even though the security camera footage from the hotel where the shot was fired clearly shows you walking out with a case, which I can only assume had a rifle in it."

"Again, it was mistaken identity."

"I beg to differ sir. I've had the imaged enhanced and enlarged. The man in the photo is you, sir. But you didn't kill him, did you. And now you're trying to smear his good name with this ridiculous testimony!"

"Objection your Honor. Asked and answered."

"Let me see that photo. Colonel, this does look very much like you. Can you explain the similarity?"

"No sir. The method used to impersonate me is classified."

"I see. Court is in recess for the moment. Mr. Martin, Mr. Hodges, my chambers, now! You too, Colonel."

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_**Judge's Chambers**_

"Colonel O'Neill, while I full well understand the need for secrecy, I do have to know that it wasn't you that attempted to assassinate the Defendant, otherwise I will be forced to instruct the jury to disregard your testimony in its entirety."

"Of course, your Honor. While I have been granted the authority to tell you, the same can not be said for either of these two gentlemen."

"I see. Gentlemen, please leave my chambers."

"I object your Honor!"

"Noted Mr. Hodges. Now, leave."

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"Alright, Colonel. We're alone now. Tell me what is so classified?"

"Do you know, your Honor, what it means to mimic something?"

"To create a duplicate of that something, Colonel. What does this have to do with the charges Mr. Hodges leveled against you?"

"Some years ago, we had what we term a 'Foothold' situation at the SGC. Aliens came through the gate in the guise of one of our off-world teams. They wore a device that allowed them to create a holographic exterior shell of a person. We beat them back, and we recovered twelve of the devices which were examined at Area 51. The technology is way in advance of ours and we have no method for duplicating it.

"After I was arrested, an investigation was done at Area 51 and it was determined that the devices in question had been switched with fakes. The National Intelligence Directorate, or NID, had obtained the devices. One of them was programmed with my image. It was used by one of their operatives to attempt to assassinate Kinsey as he had become a threat to their rogue operations. But because they didn't want to be implicated in that effort, and because I have a well known dislike for the man, they used the device that mimicked me to pull off their charade.

"When that was discovered, Kinsey was informed, and he dropped the charges against me."

"I see. You realize, of course, that had you come to me with this story even a year ago, I would have had you committed as lacking a few marbles. But with all the news about the Stargate and aliens, well, I tend to have a more open mind these days. Let's go back into the court room now."

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"Court is now in session."

"Regarding your objection, Mr. Martin, it is sustained. Colonel O'Neill has answered the question to my satisfaction."

"Your Honor! I object to these shady dealings!"

"Overruled, Mr. Hodges. Do you have any more questions for this witness?"

"Not at this time, your Honor."

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"The People call Jacob Sheridan."

"Would you please state your name and occupation, for the record, sir?"

"Jacob Sheridan, Protector, Immortal Protectorate."

"Mr. Sheridan, would you please detail for us your investigation into the recent spate of killings around the country?"

"Sure thing. A few months ago, I was asked to do a consult in Las Vegas. It seems they'd had four killings there, brutal killings, where there'd been some phrases left behind on the walls written in the victim's blood."

"What were the phases, sir?"

"_Everything dies. Immortals lie, Immortals die_."

"Morbid thoughts. Why were you called in?"

"Because of the references to Immortals. If someone were hunting our kind, well, it pays to be vigilant against that sort of thing."

"And what did you discover during the course of your investigation?"

"That there was a conspiracy to murder innocent citizens and blame Immortals for the deaths. The idea, as I understood it, was to convince the peoples of Earth that Immortals are all bad and that we should be locked up to prevent us from taking over the planet."

"I see. Did you determine if there was any pattern to the killings?"

"If there was a pattern, then it eluded me. But we did act on information received from an informant that one of the killing teams had picked a specific target in Dallas, Texas. Acting on that information, we put the target under surveillance and captured the killing team before they could accomplish their mission."

"Did you learn anything from questioning that team?"

"We did. We learned that after they had finished their mission in Dallas, that they would be headed to a West Texas game ranch for a brief rest and a debriefing before getting their next assignment."

"I see. Please continue."

"With the cooperation of the FBI and local authorities, we obtained warrants and authorization to place that facility under surveillance."

"The video and audio tapes you submitted as evidence are the result of this surveillance?"

"They are."

"At this time your Honor, the People submit into evidence the tapes made by the investigating team."

"Objection, your Honor!"

"On what grounds?"

"My client has a right to privacy, your Honor."

"Overruled. Bailiff, play the tape."

"…_Gentlemen? I trust all went well with your assignments?_…"

"Identify the first speaker, Mr. Sheridan."

"Voice analysis confirms a ninety-nine point nine percent match as Robert Kinsey."

"…_Yes sir_…"

"And the second voice?"

"It belongs to one of the killing team members."

"…_Team 3 will not be joining us this evening. They were captured in an attempted kidnapping. All knowledge of them has been disavowed. Now then, you've carried out your assignments quite well and the resulting media furor over these incidents have been fueled by well timed leaks to the press. I think that one more round of killings is in order before we take this operation overseas. Team 1 will remain behind after the rest of us leave. You are to sanitize this location. Leave no witnesses behind that might identify us. Team 2 will proceed to alternate location four. Accomplish your mission there, then proceed to London to commence operations there. Team 4, you are to proceed at once to Japan to begin looking for your targets there. Team 5, head for Russia._

_Gentlemen, you have exceeded all of my expectations. After the people make the right and only correct choice in November, you will be given assignments that will reflect your good service to your country. Half of you will be sent to oversee our Lunar Colony, the other half to our Martian Colony. Once there, as long as you can produce whatever we need to defend this great nation of ours, you will have a freehand to do whatever is necessary._

_For now, let us enjoy all the creature comforts that men of our stature and power have come to expect. I've had a number of female companions flown in especially for this night. Enjoy your liberty pass gentlemen. And remember, Team 1. No witnesses. Have fun gentlemen_..."

"Mr. Sheridan, were you able to prevent the elimination of the witnesses?"

"Indeed, sir. My team moved in to capture the killing team just as they were about to start shooting. The remaining teams were isolated at a road crossing and captured without much incident."

"What do you think of men like Kinsey?"

"Objection your Honor! Mr. Sheridan's opinion of my client should have no bearing here!"

"I asked him that question, your Honor, in his capacity as a law enforcement officer."

"Any objections to that, Mr. Hodges?"

"Yes your Honor. Mr. Sheridan may serve as a so-called protector for Immortals, but that doesn't mean he has any relevant law enforcement experience on Earth. I demand to know if he has any sort of experience that's relevant to his opinion."

"Mr. Sheridan?"

"Ok. Well, as you might have already guessed, I am an Immortal. I became such towards the end of 1864, during the War for Southern Independence. I was a Sergeant in the Confederate Cavalry. Before that, I rode with 'Rip' Ford when he led the Rangers. Texas Rangers. I've been a part of that organization since 1858. Retired with the rank of Captain a little over a year ago to take the job on Luna."

"Mr. Hodges? Does that answer satisfy you?"

"It does your Honor. I withdraw my objection."

"Mr. Sheridan? What do you think of men like Kinsey?"

"Men like Robert Kinsey have been around since the beginning of time, and I daresay they'll be with us for a long time to come. The old phrase about being born into power or rising to power? Kinsey might not have been born into it, but he has certainly acquired it. Men like Kinsey thrive on power. They feed on it. They use everything and everyone around them to achieve it. The truly sad thing is that Kinsey believes he's doing the right thing; that all of his actions are justified."

"No more questions, your Honor."

"Mr. Hodges?"

"Just a few questions, your Honor. Mr. Sheridan, tell me about the Game."

"The game? What game?"

"Come now, Mr. Sheridan. You claim to be an Immortal, yet you don't know anything about the Game?"

"Oh. That Game. Well, I never was much of an active participant in it."

"Objection, your Honor. The culture of the Immortals is not on trial here."

"If you'll give me some leeway, your Honor, I'll tie this up in a moment."

"Objection noted, Mr. Martin. Make your point quickly, Mr. Hodges."

"The Game, Mr. Sheridan."

"I respectfully refuse to answer that question."

"Alright then, what about the Prize?"

"I respectfully refuse to answer that as well."

"Very well. Can you confirm or deny that the Game is a fight to the death where only one shall remain?"

"No comment."

"Can you confirm then, that the Prize shall be given to the one who remains, and that the One will have dominion over all mortal men?"

"With fairy tales like that one, Mr. Hodges, you'd be a good writer for Hollywierd."

"Answer the question, Mr. Sheridan."

"I'm afraid I can't answer that one."

"Can't or won't?"

"Won't."

"Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question."

"Mr. Sheridan?"

"I'm sorry, your Honor. But even we Immortals must have our classified secrets."

"Objection! If the witness will not answer, then I move that his entire testimony be stricken and the jury instructed to disregard it in its entirety!"

"Mr. Sheridan, will you answer the question?"

"I can not do so in open court your Honor. I will do so to your Honor alone."

"Very well. My chambers, if you please. The Court will take a short recess!"

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_**Judge's Chambers**_

"What is it Mr. Sheridan, that can not be revealed in court?"

"Tell you what, your Honor. If you feel that the people of the world are ready for the information I'm about to reveal, then I'll answer the question in open court. If, however, you feel that my information will cause a global panic, then I must ask that you not reveal this information, ever, to anyone."

"Very well. What is so secret?"

"The Game. No one knows where it really began, but there are rumors in the Immortal community that it was created by a mortal with too much time on their hands at the beginning of human history. Immortals will battle one on one, until only one shall remain in the entire world. That one will have power and dominion over all of mankind. If a benevolent Immortal were to win the prize, mankind would be gifted an eternity of peace. If, however, a malevolent Immortal were to win, mankind would suffer an eternity of damnation."

"That sounds like something from the Bible, Mr. Sheridan."

"Perhaps that is where our legends come from. Remind me to introduce you to Captain Adam Pierson. I believe he's on the witness list. If the name Pierson doesn't ring a bell, then perhaps the name he traveled under for a couple thousand years might. Death. As in rides a pale horse? You see, your Honor, some human legends and myths are actually Immortals taking advantage of those fears."

"The Horsemen of the Apocalypse were real? Surely you are joking sir!"

"Nope. Methos. Kronos. Silas. Caspian. Those were their real names. But History and the Bible record them differently. Death. War. Famine. Pestilence. Would you want that kind of knowledge to leak out?"

"No! No. That would terrify everyone on the planet. Immortals would be hunted. I think it would be a return to the witch hunts of the 1600's."

"I think the witch hunts would be a mild thing in comparison. An Immortal can survive anything mortal man can attempt. Only another Immortal can kill an Immortal. That is the reason the Protectorate Division was created, sir. To police our own, because mortal man can not. Could you image a life sentence handed down to a man who will never die?"

"I can't."

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_**Court Room**_

"Court is now in session."

"As it is coming close to the lunch hour, court will recess until 1pm. Mr. Sheridan, you may step down until after the recess."

"Thank you, your Honor."

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_**Court Room**_

"Court is now in session."

"Your Honor, have you thought on my objection?"

"I have, Mr. Hodges. Your objection is noted, but over ruled. Mr. Sheridan's testimony will stand in the record. Mr. Martin, call your next witness."

"The People call Alex Krycek."

At the calling of that name, Kinsey looked wild-eyed for a few seconds, before resuming his calm demeanor that he'd perfected for the trial.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record."

"Alex Krycek. Currently unemployed."

"What did you do before your current unemployment, Mr. Krycek?"

"Numerous classified operations."

"I see. Do you know the defendant, Robert Kinsey?"

"Unfortunately."

"How do you know him?"

"He contacted me several weeks ago, asking me to co-ordinate his killing teams."

"Objection your Honor! What my client may or may not have said is hearsay from this witness!"

"Do you have any proof of what the defendant told you, Mr. Krycek?"

"I record all conversations I have with anyone your Honor. I've given those tapes to Mr. Martin."

"Mr. Martin, rather than have Mr. Hodges object again, would you play the tapes in question?"

"Yes your Honor."

"…_Krycek. August. Meeting with Senator Robert Kinsey…_"

"…_good to see you again Alex. I thought those pesky FBI agents had nabbed you too._"

"_I'm a hard man to find, Senator. You called this meeting. What do you want?_"

"_I want to be President, Alex. And you are going to help me_."

"_I'm listening_."

"_I've managed to find a number of Spender's former foot soldiers. I want you to lead them in a mission_."

"_What sort of mission_?"

"_One that will make everyone on Earth distrustful of Immortals. I want people to be terrified. I want them looking at each other and wonder whether their neighbor might be a blood thirsty Immortal_."

"_Is that all_?"

"_No. I want you to find someone at the CIA who can leak Jack Ryan's unofficial history_."

"_Why do that? You know that doing so would bring about a resurgence of the Cold War_?"

"_I want to be seen as a savior to the people of these United States. If they see me as the one who saved them from that idiot Ryan, they'll elect me and let me change the law to allow me to serve for life_!"

"_You're a sick and twisted man, Senator_."

"_And you're unemployed, Alex. Can you afford the luxury of not working? Can you afford the luxury of not being on my winning team?"_

"_Unemployed yes, but not broke. Spender may have been a son-of-a-bitch, but he paid well. Very well. I could not do any work for the next fifty years, and still live a comfortable lifestyle. As for being on your team, Senator, I'll have to pass_."

"_Why Alex_?"

"_I don't like you. Spender was an ass, and he was power-hungry, but he was more than content to work behind the scenes, pulling strings. You're not. You want the power for yourself, and you'll stop at nothing to achieve that power, no matter who you hurt along the way_."

"_You don't understand Alex, but that's ok. Eventually, you'll return to the fold, and when you do, your place will be assured_."

"_Don't count on it, Kinsey_."

"Thank you Mr. Krycek. I have no more questions for this witness, your Honor."

"Mr. Hodges?"

"Mr. Krycek. What sort of name is Krycek, anyways?"

"Eastern European."

"Oh? Are you an illegal alien, Mr. Krycek?"

"I was born in the United States, Mr. Hodges. My parents defected here during the Cold War."

"I see. Do you speak any languages besides English?"

"I'm fluent in Russian and Lithuanian. Maybe enough Spanish to get a room, a meal, and a beer."

"What sort of work did you do for the man known as Spender?"

"Classified work."

"Come now, Mr. Krycek. Spender and his ilk have gone the way of the Dodo bird. Surely you can talk about it now?"

"As far as I'm concerned, sir, that information is something I'll take to my grave with me. Classified means just that, sir; classified."

"Very well. Do you know President Ryan?"

"Not personally."

"But you do know who he is, correct?"

"Kinda hard to miss his being President."

"Correct. Do you know anything about his tenure at the CIA?"

"No more than you do sir."

"Can you tell us about what you know?"

"No. I believe that information is classified."

"But surely the people of the United States have a right to know what sort of man sits in the Oval Office?"

"I'm sure they do, but his history at the CIA, like my own covert history, is classified. I am not at liberty to discuss it."

"No more questions, your Honor."

"Mr. Krycek, you may step down."

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"Mr. Martin, do you have any more witnesses?"

"The People rest your Honor."

"Rather than proceed, as the hour is growing late, Court will be in recess until 9am on Monday, at which time, the Defense will begin their case."

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"Hello Alex."

"Sheridan. What can I do for you?"

"More like what I can do for you. My President would like a meeting, Alex."

"Ok. Where?"

"Luna. I have a car waiting to take us to the Lunar Embassy. There, we'll pick up a shuttle for Luna."

"Seeing as I have nothing better to do…"

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_**Luna**_

_**Office of the President**_

"Protector. Mr. Krycek. Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. That will be all Protector."

"Of course sir."

"Have a seat, Mr. Krycek. Could I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?"

"Vodka, if you have it."

"I do. So, let me thank you first off, for the timely information on Kinsey. Without it, I daresay we wouldn't have a caught a break until it was too late."

"Your welcome. Why do I get the feeling you want me to do something for you?"

"Perceptive too. I like that in a person. Ok, I'll be honest with you. Would you agree that a major part of any battle with any enemy is intelligence? That is to say, getting it before hand so the guys on the pointy end know what they're facing?"

"I'll agree with that. What's that got to do with me?"

"The Alliance agrees with that also. For thousands of years, the Tok'ra have acted in that capacity, gathering intelligence on their enemy, the Goa'uld, and sabotaging key players in this most dangerous of games. But while the Tok'ra might have the unique ability to infiltrate the enemy, they certainly act more like a small-time resistance cell, than any intelligence outfit I've ever come across. What I'd like you to consider is taking up the leadership reigns for a new intelligence agency the Alliance is putting together. One that will have agents across the galaxy. I need someone that can pay attention to the tiniest of details, yet can still see the whole picture. I think that might be you."

"You've got my attention, now. What's the catch?"

"The catch. Well, yes, I guess there would be a catch. Well, from time to time, you might have to work with someone like Sheridan. Or with Mulder, Scully, or Skinner."

"Sheridan I can handle, but the other three might want to kill me before they work with me."

"Actually it was Mulder that recommended you for the position. Skinner backed him up on that. Dana Scully will be taking over the medical research facility on Luna. Mulder will head up our diplomatic corps. Both will teach, from time to time, at the Lunar Naval Academy. Skinner has been offered a position in the Protectorate Division, with secondary duties training up a new generation of Protectors."

"Will I be based on Luna?"

"For the moment, yes. But as soon as we are able to, we will be turning an asteroid in the field into a headquarters facility for the Alliance Intelligence Directorate, complete with hangar for the ships that will be made available to your new division, and training facilities for your field agents.

"Eventually the threat of the Goa'uld will be gone, but when they fall, there will be a tremendous power vacuum in their wake. Nature abhors a vacuum. Someone else will take their place. We want to be in place across the galaxy before that happens. Any suggestions?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's my understanding that a good portion of the Goa'uld controlled worlds are primitive. At least by our standards."

"Some worlds are like the Tollan; more advanced. Some are like Kelowna; at a par with Earth of World War II. Some are like Europe of the Middle Ages. From one world to the next, it's hard to define what you'll find."

"Let me think about it?"

"Of course. If you take the position, you'd answer to me and to the Alliance Council. But by and large, you'd have free reign to carry out your primary mission. That is, to gather intelligence for use by the Alliance. Your secondary mission would be to observe worlds that have petitioned for membership in the Alliance. We could send observers, but if they know we're coming…"

"If they know you're coming, then they'll put a nice spin on things. You won't get to see the planet as it really is."

"Exactly. Your field agents would travel by gate to the more advanced worlds, or to worlds that are familiar with the gate and use it from time to time. They would also travel by scout ship. The scout ships will have Alliance transponder codes to access the ShipGate network."

"It's a lot to take in. Let me think on it overnight. I'll give you my answer in the morning."

"Sure. Take this. It sticks to the back of your hand like so. It's a communication device. Press this button to access the Lunar operator. Just ask for whomever you want, and if they're on Luna, your call will be connected. Press this button next to it to receive a call."

"No cell phone. No pager. No walkie-talkie. I'm liking this already."

"If I could recommend for a good meal, check out the '_Lunar Lander Bar and Grill_' on the Atrium level in Main Dome."

"Thank you sir."

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_**Luna**_

_**Main Dome**_

Krycek had begun his walkabout with no place in mind as a destination. He hadn't left the confines of Main Dome as it covered an area of some seventy-five square miles. The one thing he noticed was that seemed to be a lot of artisans on the Moon. '_I guess when you have centuries to devote to an art, you can get quite good at it._' He thought. Main Dome was broken up into sections with each section aimed at a specific purpose. It was a well planned city. He could see construction crews flitting about in the distance. A passer-by told him they were out laying down the framework for new domes, one of which would become home to the new agricultural area the Immortals planned. Too expensive to ship stuff up here, he guessed. Eventually he came upon the _Lunar Lander_ restaurant that President Ramos had recommended. He could see there was a line, but the hostess took one look at his com-link and moved him to the head of the line.

The hostess knew full well that the gold colored com-links were reserved for the command-level personnel on Luna, but she had no way of knowing that Krycek wasn't command-level as yet. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution. He picked a corner booth at the back of the restaurant, the better to see people as they walked in. That he picked it cause it meant a person couldn't sneak up on him was irrelevant. Or very relevant, depending on whom one spoke to. Krycek glanced at the menu long enough to order a traditional borscht from his parents homeland, and a simple meat stew. He chose tea to go with his meal, and vodka for afterwards.

His tea had arrived but he sat there, staring at the surface of the table, trying to contemplate the events of the day. Little did he realize when he awoke that morning, that he would be dining on the Moon. But he was looking down and not at the front door to the restaurant, so he didn't notice Mulder, Scully, and Skinner walk into the _Lander_. The first he knew of their presence was when Mulder softly cleared his throat and he looked up into their eyes.

"I hope you're not going to cause a scene Mulder."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Alex. Mind if we join you? It's always hard to get a table here."

"Not sure I'd be good company, but sure. Join me."

"Gold com-link, Alex? Accepted the President's offer?"

"Huh? Gold? What do you mean?"

"Your com-link. It's gold. That's reserved for command-level personnel."

"Explains why I got bumped to the front of the line."

"So, did you take the job?"

"Thinking about it. Not sure yet."

"You worried about Spender?"

"No one's seen or heard from him in quite some time. My brain tells me he's probably dead, but I wonder."

"He's not dead, but he'll never be the man he used to be. He chose to be mind-wiped as opposed to life in prison. All of the big shots we arrested chose the mind wipe procedure. They're all now safely ensconced on an asteroid, doing what they think is critical research for the war effort."

"What sort of research?"

"We gave them new personalities, new technical skills, but we limited those skills and those personalities. Now all they want to do is break a Goa'uld encryption code, one that the Goa'uld stopped using about the same time the Gate was buried on Earth."

"We gave them some of the first model computers to come out and told them it was the best equipment available. As far as I'm concerned, they'll be trying to crack that encryption code for the rest of their lives."

Mulder, Scully, and Skinner all saw it. Like a weight being lifted from Krycek's person. His spirit seemed to soar with the news that Spender was now just a grunt. Never again would Alex be haunted by Spender's omni-present ghost.

"You look pretty relieved there, Alex."

"I am relieved. I know what you think of me Mulder. That I played for the wrong side. Well, when one considers that the first job I did for Spender was because he was holding my one remaining family member hostage, one might begin to understand my dilemma. Even after her eventual release, Spender continued his torment of me. And because I had done something very bad, and because he had all of the evidence in that respect, my blackmailer became my employer. His threats of going to the police with evidence against me made me work all the harder for him, just so I could get those papers back. You can't imagine how relieved I am to know that he'll never torment another soul ever again!"

"Are you going to take the job?"

"I don't know. For once, I'd like to take things easy."

"Things will never be easy again Alex. We have a very real enemy out here, and even when they are gone for good, the power vacuum that they'll leave behind will be exploited by someone else."

"Your President mentioned that."

"We've all seen it happen before on Earth. Who's to say it won't happen in a more 'advanced' race?"

"Always the pessimist, eh Mulder?"

"Are you going to take the job, Alex?"

"Why are you so interested in me taking this position, Mulder?"

"I want some good to become of all the bit players in Spender's schemes. That's all we were; all of us just bit players on his stage. He controlled or tried to control, everything around him. The antagonists were, of course, the aliens and their plans for colonization. At least, that's what he had us believing. I think, the truth of it all is that he was the one primary antagonist. He orchestrated everything, putting pieces into play, encouraging them in some respects, and holding them back in others. He was both friend and enemy to all of us. He took Scully away, then gave her back. He assigned you as my friend and watcher, then turned you into an enemy. I never knew what your true motive was, especially as long as Spender was alive. There were many times that I couldn't trust even myself to do the right thing.

"But with him out of the picture, our little drama has closed for good. And beyond a few in the upper echelons of the government and the military, no one will know of our roles. Skinner, Scully, you, and me, we know. Do you want to know what Spender said to me before they wiped his memories, his personality? He said 2012. Colonization comes in 2012. Maybe it would have had the Alliance not been born. But if they come now, odds are they'll fail and no other race will be targeted by them, ever again.

"In any case, the four of us are in the best position to gather information, to help the Alliance prepare, in the off-chance that Spender might have been doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. Or the right thing for the wrong reasons. We know there's a vaccine for the alien virus. We've all seen the virus and its effects on people. I think we need a definitive answer on whether that virus is indeed alien, or just some genetically modified Earth strain. Cause if it's native to our world, then Spender played us all for fools. He and others like him played us all for fools for a few decades. But if it's not native to Earth, if it really is alien in origin, then we need to make sure that the vaccine is available to everyone on Earth, to everyone in the Alliance."

"Just the four of us working on this?"

"That's the thing, Alex. If you take the job, you'll be in a position to bring in from the cold all the agents the Consortium had at its disposal. Through them, you can find all those secret and clandestine labs they had. With their research in hand, particularly the medical research, we can determine once and for all, the truth or lack thereof, of Spender's master plan."

"So the fight continues, only know we'll have the assets and resources we need to finish this fight once and for all, is that it?"

"Tennyson said it best. '…_that which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will…To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield_.'"

"That helps, actually."

_Beep-beep-beep._

"Scully here. What is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Dr. Scully. We have word from the SGC of a major battle on another planet. They are requesting medical assistance."

"On my way. Well, sorry folks, duty calls."

"I'll go with you, Agent Scully."

"I'm not an 'Agent' any more sir."

"You and Mulder will always be 'Agent' to me."

Skinner and Scully left the table and went immediately to the Ring room for transport to the SGC. Both were kitted out, Skinner going along more as a guard for Scully than as a part of the rescue operation being mounted for P3X-166, where SG-3 and 13 were under siege. After battling through the 'Gate, Scully and Skinner found their way to where Janet Fraiser was working to save one of the SG soldiers. The staff blast that erupted from the weapon of the Jaffa meant for Janet Fraiser took Dana Scully instead, with a little energy spilling off and striking a glancing blow to Doctor Fraiser. As Marius had once said to her, so she now said to Janet when she awoke. '_I did it cause I'll wake up, but you wouldn't, and then what would I tell Cassie?_'

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_**Next Morning**_

_**Office of the President**_

Alex had spent most of the night after leaving Mulder's company wandering about Main Dome, watching fighters launch to join the fleet, watching cargo ships as they came in on their runs. Watching vac-suited workers mill about the uncompleted Ag Dome. Watching the Earth rise above the Lunar horizon. It was a good time to be alive, he finally realized.

"Mr. President."

"Make your decision yet?"

"Yes. And yes, I'll take the position."

"Good! And now for your first assignment."

"So soon?"

"It should be an easy one. To tell the truth, I was betting you'd say yes, so I took the liberty of arranging a meeting for you. Borrow one of the pilots in the hangar bay. Choose a good one, cause he or she will be tasked to you from here on out. You'll be meeting with your counterparts on Earth. Director Foley of the CIA. Director Golovko of the SVR. Avi ben Jakob of Mossad. And Prince Ali bin Sheik of Saudi Arabia. Each one will have a few other nations' intelligence directors or their seconds there as well. Four stops, then back here. Maybe you can convince them to 'lend' you a few analysts and agents to train up whatever people you select. Afterwards, I'll give you a couple weeks to get things started, and then you'll need to hit the ground running. The quicker we can begin to get a handle on our enemies, the better for our troops.

"If you hadn't noticed, the com-link I gave to you is gold. Not just gold-colored or gold-plated, but actual gold. As much as anything else around here, that's a status symbol of your new rank. Directors of agencies around here get that type of link. Wear it always. You'll find that it can help you get into the restaurants on Luna a lot easier than flashing a wad of bills. Second, this is a Personal Identification Card. Think of it as a combination driver's license, bank card, credit card, medical ID card, and any other kind of monetary or identification card on Earth. We've arranged with the major banks on Earth so that your card can be used in place of one of theirs. The credit line is pretty well unlimited and, theoretically, you could buy an aircraft carrier with it, but I'd sure as hell want to know why you did.

"Last, and while I'm sure you've grown fond of whatever sidearm you currently carry, I'm having a PPG issued to you. PPG stands for Phased Plasma Gun. It takes a magazine called a capsule or cap. Three settings on the gun here. Setting one stuns a target. Setting two kills a target. Setting three kills in one shot and is strong enough to burn through several layers of steel. At setting one, you get twelve shots from a cap. At setting three, you'll get maybe four shots. The best part is that the grip is DNA encoded to the user. Anyone else grabbing your gun gets a mild electrical shock when they squeeze the trigger, enough to make them drop it. It will fire only for the person it's genetically encoded to. Questions?"

"Standard procedure on Earth says that agents from the CIA aren't armed. Does that apply here?"

"Arm them. Last thing I want is more deaths on my conscious."

"Another question."

"Shoot."

"Where's my office?"

"Smart ass. Ask my aide in the outer office. He'll get you set up with an office and a personal assistant. Go on. Get out of here. I've got way too much paperwork to do."

"Thanks for the opportunity."

"Git!"

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_**US Federal Court**_

_**Washington, DC**_

_**0900 Monday**_

"…Court is now in Session. The Honorable Thomas Wilson presiding…"

"Mr. Hodges, are you ready to proceed?"

"I am, your Honor."

"Very well. Call your first witness."

"The Defense calls Robert Kinsey to the stand."

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"Please state your name and occupation for the record, sir."

"Robert Kinsey. Former US Senator."

"You say former Senator, sir. Why is that?"

"I am on trial here sir, for some perceived misdeed, and my fellow Senators were shown only some of the evidence, without allowing myself a defense, and as such they stripped me of my title."

"I am sorry for that Mr. Kinsey. In regard to these charges leveled against you, what do you have to say?"

"These charges are outright lies. I could never order men and women to perform the deeds with which I have been charged."

"So you didn't order men out into the cities of the United States to kill innocent men and women?"

"I did not."

"What of the tape recording we heard last week?"

"All I can say is that though that might be, and I stress 'MIGHT' be my voice on the tape, I never said those words. I have never been to any Game Ranches, I believe the idea of a ranch where one would hunt caged game is abhorrent in the extreme."

"How then, do you explain the evidence that the Government has entered?"

"Manufactured so as to discredit me in the upcoming elections."

"What of the charges that you revealed classified information?"

"I believe that the people of the United States have a right to know all of the secret goings on within our government. I believe that no information should be classified, for a government that does things in secret is not fulfilling the will of the people."

"But can you confirm or deny that you released this information?"

"I not only will confirm it, but given the opportunity to bring such information to the light of the public eye, I will gladly do so!"

"It's on the record that you attempted to disclose information about the Stargate Program at least twice, is that correct?"

"Again, given the opportunity I would have done so as many times as possible. The first time I went to the facility with the Stargate, I did so because I wanted to see what program was hidden under a specific line item in the defense budget of the United States. That line item was called only 'Area 52' and it had a budget then of seven point four billion dollars. The People pay their taxes and they elect people like me to make sure that we spend their hard-earned tax dollars appropriately. I went with an open mind to their facility after having been briefed on their near disasters by a Pentagon officer. But I was asked to keep an open mind about the project by the President."

"I see. Who was the President at the time?"

"Robert Fowler. He was rather taken, as I recall, with the antics of the SG-1 team. I, on the other hand, was not. I full well believe that their actions, more often than not, endangered Earth and for that reason I attempted to not only shut that program down, but to disclose the events there."

"Did you try a second time, sir?"

"I did. And it was only the intervention of the Asgard that prevented my success."

"The intervention of the Asgard? Why did they interfere in what was clearly a domestic matter?"

"I do not know the answer to that save that they demanded that unless the Stargate program remained where it was and under the leadership it had then, they would cease all dealings with us."

"The threat of an alien species kept the program in the dark, as it were?"

"It did."

"Given the opportunity, sir, would you change anything about how the program is run now that it has become public knowledge?"

"I would take the program away from the military and turn it into a civilian agency, one with full oversight by the government."

"Thank you sir. No more questions, your Honor."

"Mr. Martin?"

"Thank you, your Honor."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. Kinsey, are you frequently given over to flights of fancy?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question?"

"You stated earlier, in reference to the audio tape, that while that may have been your voice, that you never uttered those words, correct?"

"That is correct. The voice on the tape does sound remarkably like mine, but we both know that with the new technologies available today, you could take a set of my speeches and have me say practically anything."

"I see. And would your answer be the same regarding the video tape of your meeting at the game ranch in Texas?"

"Yes. All these new technologies that we suddenly find ourselves with, from these aliens that Jack Ryan has entered into treaties with, with all of that new tech, I believe it would be very easy to create a video or audio tape of my saying or doing anything."

"So you deny these charges against you?"

"Vehemently deny these charges against me. I wanted to run nothing but an honest campaign, yet I can see my opponent has done anything but."

"How so?"

"These charges and fabricated evidence clearly indicate that Jack Ryan is behind all of it! The man is not fit for politics! Has he not repeatedly stated to the media that he has no training as a politician? I daresay, sir, that this statement alone should drive the people to vote for anyone other than President Ryan!"

"Do you know the definition of a politician, sir?"

"Of course I do. A politician is…"

"Forgive me for interrupting you sir. But would you agree to the statement that a politician is a male or female that is involved in politics or that holds a public office, and that the term politician is generally restricted in the United States to someone that is elected or appointed to such an office?"

"That is an appropriate definition."

"What sort of person could become a politician, sir? Could a farmer or a rancher become a politician?"

"Yes of course they could. Our government was founded on the principle of 'of the people, by the people, and for the people', after all."

"So, by your own statement, a person from any walk of life could hold public office?"

"Well, we tend to limit that to those who have held legitimate jobs. I mean, while a drug dealer may be qualified to run for office, I for one would not want that person to hold it. There is too much temptation to those in power to abuse the power that comes with their chosen office."

"And if a person elected to public office abuses the power of that office, what should be done to them?"

"I would say that such an abuse is a crime, and that with all crime in these United States, should be punishable by an appropriate sentence after a judgment by their peers."

"One final question, sir, just to clear my understanding of your earlier statements regarding the audio and video recordings of your person."

"It was not me that said those things, sir. Yes, I am running for the highest office in the land, however, I fully intended to run an honest and forthright campaign. That I have been charged with these abhorrent crimes speaks to the levels to which my opponents will stoop to prevent me from achieving that office."

"Thank you sir. No more questions for this witness."

----------------------------------------

"Mr. Hodges?"

"The defense rests."

"Your Honor, at this time, the people would like to call a number of rebuttal witnesses to testify as to the statements the defendant made regarding the audio and video recordings."

"Objection! Your Honor, there was no prior notice of these so called rebuttal witnesses!"

"How many witnesses do you intend to call, Mr. Martin?"

"Enough to fully and completely rebut the defendant's testimony. We have in protective custody, the members of the assassination teams, the employees of Buck's Game Ranch, and Robert Hayden."

"Objection! Why is my client's chief of staff being called as a witness? He was certainly not on any witness list!"

"We have him on our possible list of rebuttal witnesses, your Honor."

"Overruled, Mr. Hodges. The hour is growing late. Court is in recess until tomorrow morning at which time, Mr. Martin, you may proceed with the rebuttal witnesses."

"Thank you your Honor."

"Your Honor!"

"What is it, Mr. Hodges?"

"Against my better judgment, my client wishes to make a brief statement to the court before we recess for the day."

"Please be brief, Mr. Kinsey."

"Of course. I can see the government's plan now. It should have been obvious from the start, but I had my faith placed in the judicial system. You're all against me. You have been from the start! At this time, your Honor, I would like to change my plea from not guilty, to guilty, and I ask for the Mercy of the Court."

"This is certainly something I had not expected. Very well. Let the record reflect that the defendant, Robert Kinsey, has changed his plea from not guilty to guilty. Furthermore, I am ordering an immediate psychiatric evaluation to be conducted forthwith. From your statements, Mr. Kinsey, it is evident to me that you are clearly unbalanced, sir. The sentencing hearing will be one week from today, pending the psychiatric evaluation. Court is in recess until then."

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_**One Week Later**_

_**Sentencing Phase**_

"The court, having read the documents and reports as provided by the court appointed Psychiatrist, accepts the plea of Guilty, as made by the defendant, Robert Kinsey. Before I pass sentence on this matter, I feel it my place to instruct the defendant on a simple matter, the notion of government.

"Good government, sir, never depends entirely on the laws it creates, but upon the personal qualities of those whom _We the People_ elect to govern us. The government must always be subordinate to the will of the People. There exists, however, a limit to the force even the People may apply without destroying themselves. Judging this limit is the truest artistry of the People. Misuse of that artistry is the most fatal of sins. The will of the People can never be a tool of vengeance, never a hostage, nor a fortification against the very martyrs we have created in the name of good government. You sir, can not threaten an individual and escape the consequences.

"The oft times indeterminate wording of the very laws we strive to uphold have grown up around the necessity to hide from the People the very violence we intend upon one another. Between depriving a person of one hour of their life and depriving a person of their life, there exists only the smallest of differences. Elaborate speeches and gestures might have concealed your intentions, sir, but behind any abuse of power there remains one very evident truth. You are truly and uniquely known by that which you despise.

"Robert Kinsey, having pled guilty to the charges against you, it is the decision of this court to sentence you to one life term for each of the murders with which you have been charged, to be served concurrently. The court further decides that on the charges of fraud, you, Robert Kinsey, be sentenced to a term of no less than twelve years and no more than fifteen years on each count of fraud. Lasting, and in regards to the charge of treason, this court sentences you to life in prison, a term to be carried out after your other sentences have been fulfilled. Court is now adjourned."

"You know, Dan, I had no idea the Judge was such a fan of Frank Herbert."

"What do you mean, Pat?"

"The statement the Judge made. I recognized most of it. Straight from the pages of the _Dune_ series. Herbert's thoughts on law and government were required readings when I was in law school."

"Hmm. It was quite appropriate though."

"Indeed it was, Dan. Indeed it was."

----------------------------------------

_**New York City**_

After so many weeks of tracking down killers and then testifying as to their actions, Jake wanted to relax for a few days before heading back to Luna. He'd had this feeling over the last several days, as the trial wound down, that something major was coming up, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. He wasn't alone in the City this day. Patrick Martin, the Attorney General for the United States, had early on told him that he might call Byron as a witness, but that had proven unwarranted.

Of course, he had called Liv as soon as he knew where he was staying, but as he had an extra person with him that was totally unfamiliar with the city, the last thing he wanted to do was leave the man by himself in the hotel room. Liv told him to swing by the station house about six that evening, and that she would have that problem solved.

In the meantime, Connor MacLeod had asked Jake to pick up a few items for him from his storage warehouse. Jake and Byron made short work of the requested items, wondering how MacLeod's neighbors on Luna would like hearing the man play the Pipes. Jake hadn't ever heard him play, but that didn't mean very much. Bagpipes were not for the faint of heart. After Jake saw the nice display cases filled with all manner of historical items, it made Jake rather contemplative. He had many such items in his possession. Perhaps it was time to bring them out of storage as well and show them off to the world. Connor had indicated to Jake that the requested items were to be loaned to the new Lunar Museum of History and that many other Immortals would be lending pieces to the displays.

Before they knew it, it was five in the afternoon, and the two men now had to rush to make their appointment on time. Byron was feeling nothing from Jake, but that wasn't anything unusual.

As they walked into the station house, Byron was immediately assaulted with all manners of vile imagery coming from various, what he guessed were interrogation rooms. But in all honesty, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen such things before. Even in his time, in his universe, there were men and women with thoughts of violence.

"Ranger Sheridan! What brings you back to our lovely squad room?"

"Finn! Nice to see you again. Just stopping by to see Olivia. Oh, and by the way, I'm not with the Rangers anymore. Protector Sheridan, at your service, Detective. This is my partner, Byron."

"A pleasure to meet you Mr. Tutuola."

"Any friend of Sheridan's, is a friend of mine. You need anything, just ask."

"Finn? Where's Liv?"

"She and Stabler have a perp in Room One. Cap should be in the observation room. Remember where that's at?"

"Refresh my memory, would you?"

"Sure. Back this way."

----------------------------------------

"Hey Cap, look who I found!"

"Ranger! I knew you'd be back. No one stays away from the Big Apple for long."

"Well, I do try to avoid it, but I'm here strictly for pleasure. This is my partner, Byron."

"Wrapped up your last case? The one in Las Vegas?"

"Oh yeah. That one's in the bag. We put away sixteen men for that one. Five three-man killing teams, and one Presidential Candidate."

"That was your case? Ya know, I actually thought about voting for Kinsey…for all of about half a second."

"So did a lot of other people apparently. The man may be in prison now, awaiting transference to his final cell, but he still managed to get a couple million votes. So, who's the mutt you got in there?"

"Sheridan. He's guilty."

"Byron?"

"The man they have in there. His thoughts are very loud. He may have a straight face, but inside his mind, he's laughing at his perceived ineptitude of your detectives. They are questioning him regarding one rape and murder, but he has committed well over thirty of them. All of them prostitutes. Have one of your detectives ask him about bathing in their blood. Ask him why he believes himself to be their savior. Have them ask him about why he believes himself to be the reincarnation of 'Jack, The Ripper'. It should unbalance him enough."

"How could you know all that, Mr. Byron?"

"It's just Byron, actually."

"Cap, this is another one of those Immortal perks. In Byron's case, the extra gift manifested itself as an ability to read thoughts."

"_Mind reading? He's got to be kidding!_"

"Quite the contrary Captain. I highly doubt that Protector Sheridan ever bluffs."

"You. You. You saw what I was thinking?"

"The thought was loud enough, sir."

"Speechless, Cap? Byron does have that effect on people."

As soon as Detective Stabler asked the suspect about bathing in the victim's blood, well, it was almost as if someone had tripped a switch. The man became quite agitated and then suddenly very calm. He laughed a bit and then spoke in what sounded like a cultured British accent. He made a full confession and a pair of uniformed officers led him away to a holding cell pending his arraignment.

----------------------------------------

Later that evening, the four of them, Benson and Sheridan, and Byron and his 'date' for the evening, Alexandra Cabot, were seated in a quiet little restaurant in upper Manhattan. It had been a pleasant evening thus far, but Sheridan was blind to the obvious looks that Byron and Benson were exchanging. But Cabot wasn't. She felt sorry for the man.

"Liv, there's something I need to say."

"Yes, Jake?"

"I got word from Luna earlier. Apparently I've impressed the Council with this last investigation. They have something else in mind for me for the next few months, and odds are I won't be getting back to Earth for a while."

"I'm sorry to hear that Jake."

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_**Earth Space**_

_**Peregrine Fighter**_

_**Enroute to Luna**_

The computer beeped for his attention, though his mind was elsewhere. The recent break-up of his budding relationship with Olivia Benson still fixed firmly in his mind. They had parted as friends, but he knew that as much as he might have wanted to spend a lifetime with her, it would be unfair to Liv. He finally glanced down at the insistent beeping and read the screen. The headlines were succinct and to the point: **Former Sen. Robert Kinsey Killed in Prison**.

The details were never officially released in their entirety to the media, but to those in the know, those who had investigated the man for the murders he conspired to commit, knew that he had been 'accidentally' placed into the general population area prior to his transfer to a solitary confinement area. The autopsy report was tailor made for nightmares or a horror movie. A total of ninety-three stab wounds, several major gashes, and a missing tongue. A note was left behind in Kinsey's blood: "_Dead, tongue-less men speak no tales, in this life or the next_."

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	11. Peace

_Peace and War_

_Part IV of the Potentials Series_

_Dedicated to Ecolea, for without her Changing of the Guard series, none of this would have been possible._

----------------------------------------

_**War – Part II**_

----------------------------------------

Using clues provided by Tok'Ra, SG-2 gated to P3X-439 where they discovered some ruins of an Ancient's outpost. SG-1 were brought in and arrived just before the Goa'uld launched an attack on the teams there. Knowing that the information repository could not be allowed to fall into the hands of Anubis, Colonel Jack O'Neill downloaded the material into his own brain, then planted C4 around the area before ordering the teams there to evacuate back to the gate. As the Jaffa approached the structure, the C4 detonated, destroying the Ancient repository and taking out a large number of the Jaffa in the process.

While SG-1 was off-world, the national elections took place. Kinsey still managed to capture a fair percentage of the vote, but it wasn't nearly enough to displace Jack Ryan as he captured close to seventy percent of the popular vote and well over the 270 electoral votes required. And so it was back to business as usual for President Ryan. He'd finished out the remainder of Roger Durling's term, and would soon be inaugurated for his first full term as President of the United States. SG-1 arrived back on Earth as the announcements of the new President were being made. Finally, they thought, a President who actually understood the need for the SGC.

A few days later, Jack O'Neill was busily working on something or other, the knowledge of the Ancients slowly overwhelming his brain. Tok'Ra was nowhere to be found, and Methos was by Jack's side almost all of the time, writing down the bits and pieces of the Ancient's tongue that Jack managed to spurt out. Daniel was busily looking at some of the images he'd taken of the ruins on the planet, and had at last calculated the location of Praclarush Taonas, where he expected the lost city was located. They attempted to gate to the world, but were unable to do so, as the gate would not lock. Borrowing a Jaffa cargo ship, O'Neill made modifications to the engines, enabling them to travel far faster than normal. But Bra'tac's warning had not gone unheeded. Three days. Three days before Anubis and his Cylon allies would begin their attacks. But where was still up to interpretation. The fleet, what few ships were available, were made ready.

Marius was in his office, looking over the current reports of the fleet, when the alarm came in. New Tollana was under attack, by a large fleet of Goa'uld motherships and Cylon _Basestar_s.

"Marcus. Are you ready to engage the enemy?"

"I am Marius. May the Gods be merciful to us this day!"

"Godspeed old friend."

The _Halsey_ had come out of refit only a few hours earlier. Two _Hyperion_s pulled up along side, and four of the _Prometheus_ battlecruisers locked themselves to their exterior docking points on the _Halsey_. A full flight of twelve _Peregrine_ gun boats and four _Defiant_ escorts would join the fleet for this first massive encounter. New Tollana was a few hundred light years distant from Earth, and had they used only the Goa'uld hyperdrives, that might have taken them several hours, but instead the _Halsey_ and the _Hyperion_s opened jump points in the fabric of space, and the fleet zoomed in.

The four battlecruisers left behind of the _Halsey_ fleet were added to the two already in the system, and they began patrolling the perimeters of the system, flying with their fighter wings deployed. All haste was made to finish the hull work on the _Galactica_, and on the _Kuznetsov_, with extra shifts of workers brought up to the shipyards for the push to make the ships ready. Some thirty minutes after the _Halsey_ strike fleet departed Sol space, a second distress call was received, this time from Kelowna. A hastily assembled fleet with the Battlestar _Caprica_ at its center jumped to Kelowna. Close to an hour after the second fleet departed, the SGC received a message that the Tok'ra base at Risa was under attack by Anubis. A fleet centered around the undermanned _Douglas Munro_ left Sol to assist the Tok'ra. The third fleet included both _Nova_ dreadnoughts, two _Olympus_ corvettes, and four _Jeep_ escort carriers. That left the carrier _Kennedy_ as one of the few remaining protectors for the Sol system.

----------------------------------------

_**New Tollana System**_

_**First Battle of Tollana**_

The fleet had been in hyperspace for little more than an hour, when Admiral Constantine was informed of their proximity to the system.

"Report."

"Sir, Tollana High Command reports their critical buildings are still shielded, but their ion cannons are having little effect on the shields of the Goa'uld. The Cylon _Basestar_s are staying well outside of the range of the ion guns."

"Do we have accurate targeting data?"

"Aye sir."

"Find me the largest clumps of ships, and jump into those groups. All stations, battle alert. All ships, weapons free at this time."

Anubis was not with this particular fleet, though Svarog was. He had been ordered by Anubis to seize the Tollan world and to take as many prisoners as possible. Their phase shifting technology was something Anubis greatly desired.

"My Lord, there is an anomaly forming in the system amid the fleet."

"Show me this anomaly."

"Yes my Lord."

On the screen there were three massive blue vortices, very different from what a wormhole should resemble. But these vortices had tremendous amounts of energy and had opened in the midst of the fleet. Several motherships had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the gravitational wash of those released energies and Svarog watched as they vanished from the screens and new and larger ships entered the fray, each of which immediately began firing some form of phased energy beam at his combined fleet, and also began launching vast numbers of fighters unlike any he had ever seen before.

"Weps, find me a command and control ship."

"Got something that looks like it might be one sir. At the rear of the formation."

"Good. Target it with the Vorlon cannons and fire when ready."

"Firing!"

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"My Lord! We are being targeted!"

"Shields to full power!"

It was his last order to his First Prime. He quickly realized that such a ship might actually do him some damage and he left the throne room and quickly made for a ring room where he ringed off just in time to a nearby _Ha'tak_. The Jaffa in the pel'tac were amazed that a single blast from an energy cannon could immolate such a large mothership. With the news that their God was aboard, they moved their ship away from the fighting, only to laugh at the puny ship that now pursued them. Svarog was still making his way to the pel'tac when the ship shook repeatedly as the pulse phaser cannons of the _Defiant-_class _Valiant_ punched the Goa'uld shields well into the red before they collapsed spectacularly. The _Honor_ pressed the advantage given to it by the _Valiant_ and followed up the blasts from its forward phasers with two photon torpedoes. The resulting explosion did more than swat a Goa'uld _Ha'tak_ out of the night sky; it vaporized Svarog before he could even wonder who these ships belonged to.

With the Goa'uld now leaderless in this engagement, the Cylon forces took control, moving their massive _Basestar_s forward to bring their heavy weapons to bear. The _Lexington_, a heavy cruiser of the _Hyperion_-class, brought her main guns to bear and fired at something close to point blank range. The ship had eight heavy pulse phaser cannons which fired almost continuously at the target directly in front of them. The targets to either side felt the heat and power of the anti-matter cannons that fired not beams, but packets of anti-matter that was devastating at close range. Above the main guns, a single launcher was spitting out torpedoes as fast as the weapons officer could get a target lock. The _Lexington_ was taking on three _Basestar_s, but her sister ship, the _Concord_ was meeting four _Basestar_s and two _Ha'tak_s.

The four _Prometheus_ battlecruisers were holding back a bit, acting as carriers for all of the fighters of the fleet, bringing them in, rearming and refueling them, and launching them just as fast as possible. The flight of twelve _Peregrine_s were doing their best to whittle down the amount of _Udajeet_s and Cylon _Raiders_. In the distance, the _Defiant_ and the _Valor_ had done like the _Valiant_ and the _Honor_, double teaming a _Ha'tak_. One of the ships would fly in close and strafe one of the shields of the _Ha'tak_, punching them well into the red zone with only one pass. The first ship would be followed closely by the second of the pair, firing another set of phaser pulses before targeting a pair of photon torpedoes at the ship from the aft launcher.

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_**Kelowna**_

_**First Battle of Kelowna**_

Methos stood on the command deck of the Battlestar _Caprica_. The Colonials had asked him, at the last minute, if he would take command of the battle group being sent to aid Kelowna, and he had accepted. He had a somewhat smaller fleet than the one commanded by Constantine, but he did have the two _Whitestar_s at his disposal, and just one of those ships packed an equivalent punch of this massive Battlestar. But the _Whitestar_ only carried four fighters, which relegated it to the role of a frigate rather than ship of the line.

Unlike Constantine, Methos didn't wait for the targeting data and jumped directly into the midst of the attacking fleet. Anubis had thought Kelowna an easy target as he had sent only two dozen _Ha'tak_s. There were only two Cylon _Basestar_s with this attacking fleet, more to provide additional fighters than for their heavy guns. Methos tasked the _Whitestar_s to handle the _Basestar_s, leaving the bulk of his ships to deal with the _Ha'tak_s.

There was no Goa'uld System Lord commanding this fleet, only a First Prime to Svarog. But that was more than enough. He moved six of his available gunboats to fly a wedge ahead of the _Caprica_ to punch a hole through the incoming fighters, while the ship he was on closed to heavy weapons range with the _Ha'tak_s. The remaining six _Peregrine_ gunboats flew with the fighters, acting as command units and lending their fire support to them.

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_**Luna**_

"Mitch."

"Marco. I have some good news for you."

"Spill it. I need some good news."

"The first battleship is ready."

"Battleship?"

"You sent me a time-delayed message before you disappeared, remember?"

"That's right. I'd forgotten all about that. With all the new goodies we brought back, what did you end up putting on her?"

"She has six main gun turrets, each with four barrels. Four turrets top-side and two underneath. She's got more than enough anti-fighter turrets to act as one hell of a shield for the larger cap ships. She sports twelve tubes in the bow, and sixteen on each side. There are an additional four tubes aft. We've dubbed it the _Constellation_-class. You didn't ask for this next part, but we put it in. There are two openings on either side, fore and aft. Single fighters come in through the rear, and are launched forward. The ship itself won't carry fighters, but it can rearm and refuel them in a battle. The other major thing we did was make it smaller. Once you got back with those new techs, we took advantage of that. The engine tech alone allowed for smaller and more powerful designs which freed up a lot of space. Those big guns use up a lot of power. Each gun turret has its own fusion reactor to provide power. Each gun turret also has its own shield generator and that shield generator is powered by a naquadah generator.

"Like I said, we shortened the ship somewhat, so instead of the seven hundred meters you specified, the new _Constellations_ will only be five hundred meters, or about the same length as a _Whitestar_. The first two ships, the _Castor_ and the _Pollux_, will be out of the shipyard by the end of second shift. Once that space is freed up, we're going to go full bore on the _Olympus_ and _Hyperion_s, as these are relatively easy to build quickly. The industrial replicators are proving to be a big help in that respect.

"I know that we've just sent the bulk of our forces to Tollana, Risa, and Kelowna, so we don't have much in system. The yard crews are rushing the refit of the _Galactica_. The _Kuznetsov_ is getting the last of her new hull plates now and should be space worthy in a couple of days, with the _Galactica_ a couple days after that. _Daedalus_ and five battlecruisers are all we have available for the moment.

"One last thing, sir. The _Castor_ and the _Pollux_ are both mostly automated. The bulk of her systems are fully automated and this includes the launchers and the guns. The flight deck still requires crews, as well as the bridge and the medical bay. But beyond that, we've managed to reduce the crew compliment to two hundred, and that's mostly flight deck crew."

"Best news I've heard today, Mitch. I hope our task forces are doing well. This is our first major test against the Goa'uld and the Cylons with our new ships. Take a look at my report on the Ferengi. They managed to build stations during our long war with the Borg fairly quickly. See what we can do along those lines. It will benefit us to place stations over each of the home planets for our major AIS members. And, it opens a door for interplanetary commerce."

"I like the way you think Marco. Maybe you should incorporate the IDB and go public. I'd sure as hell buy stock in it."

"I'll mull that one over."

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_**Tollana**_

"Sir, we're getting reports from the surface that a large contingent of ground troops have landed."

"XO, deploy the pods to the surface. Both of them."

"Aye sir!"

In the skies above New Tollana, the _Concord_ was battling six ships. Her fire was concentrated on the _Ha'tak_s as they had closed first with the _Concord_. But the four _Basestar_s were closing as well, two on either side. Their intentions were to capture the _Concord_ in crossfire of murderous proportions.

"Captain, four _Basestar_s closing to point blank range!"

"Today is a good day to die! Weapons officer! Fire all tubes! Concentrate main guns on those two cowardly Goa'uld ships!"

The _Basestar_s had closed to minimum weapons range. The two _Ha'tak_s began pouring out large amounts of plasma fire at the _Lexington_ and she responded with full barrages from the anti matter cannons. Each packet of anti matter was devastating, and the combined effects of so many packets quickly brought down the shields on first one, then the other _Ha'tak_. As Koth ordered the heavy guns to fire on the Goa'uld ships, the Cylons fired their own heavy pulsar cannons at the _Concord_. Each of the _Basestar_s had targeted the primary shield generators for the ship. Intense pulsar fire rained down on to the shields, cutting through the outer shield, then the middle shield, and finally the inner shield before washing across the surface of the Vorlon-Minbari armor. The armor did as designed and managed to absorb almost eighty percent of the energy being poured onto its surface, redirecting that energy to the now non-existent shield generators and to the weapons arrays. The intense fire of the Cylon pulsar cannons had melted the shield generators into puddles of metal.

Great tears were appearing in the armor as large sections of hull failed, opening the inner areas to vacuum and forcefully ejecting crewmen into space. The _Lexington_ saw that her sister ship was in danger of falling to the enemy and turned to engage them. With the shields on the _Concord_ down, there was no way she could withstand the nearby detonation of those ships, so the _Lexington_ and the _Defiant_ and _Valor_ pair charged in, trying to draw fire away from their wounded comrade. The _Lexington_ closed to point blank range with the two _Basestar_s to starboard of the _Concord_ and let loose with all of her main guns, tearing large chunks of armored hull away from the _Basestar_s. Whether it was a well placed shot, or a very lucky shot, one of the beams from the heavy plasma cannons cut through the central pillar of the _Basestar_, and the ship was cut in two, each section slowly drifting away from the other. _Peregrine_ and _Falcon_ flights dove at the two separated sections and launched all of their micro-photon torpedoes, targeting the critical systems and bringing them down.

The _Lexington_'s engine compartment had been holed and opened to vacuum, her engines shut down completely, melted to slag. She would need a tow back to the shipyard, if she survived the battle. On the _Concord_, Koth was screaming in rage at the cowardly enemy who chose to battle him. His ship was gravely wounded and many of her systems were now inoperative. The eight fighters she had carried to this battle were now gone, victims of a vicious pinwheel attack on behalf of the Cylon _Raiders_. But that had been at the onset of the battle. The surviving fighter pilots were now of a special breed; those that had survived their first all-out space battle. The pilots from the battlecruisers and the _Halsey_ had fared better, but their numbers were also severely depleted. Dotted here and there in ones and twos and in slightly larger clusters, were the escape pods of hundreds of fighters, all of their occupants praying fervently that their side won the battle. None of them looked forward to execution or interrogation at the hands of their enemies.

The _Basestar_s to starboard of the _Concord_ were now drifting, lifelessly. They'd been taken out of the battle for good. But the _Basestar_s to port were faring much better than their two unfortunate comrades. Well, marginally better. The _Defiant_ and the _Valor_ were flying in close proximity to the _Basestar_, weaving through its superstructure, removing anti-fighter turrets and cap-ship turrets as quickly as possible. But while they concentrated their fire on only one _Basestar_, the other one fired all of its pulsar cannons at one point on the _Concord_.

Just aft of the main superstructure, on the long skeletal-like section that separated the engine compartment from the forward decks, where the fighter bays were located; this was where the pulsar beams hit. The effect was destructive in the extreme, shearing through the ship and ripping it in two. On the command deck, emergency lights immediately kicked on, and air systems started venting the smoke and toxic fumes out into space. But while there may have been just enough power to run life support and gravitational systems, there was none left for the main guns. All she had left were the forward tubes, but she had no targeting sensors available.

"Helm, turn the ship! Weapons, fire tubes as they come to bear!"

"Sir! We have no targeting solution!"

"Damn you! Communications! Order all ships to activate IFF transponders! Weapons! Fire!"

The helmsmen used the navigational thrusters, the ones normally used to dock the ship, to turn the forward section towards the enemy. As her tubes came to bear on the Cylon ship, they fired, one by one, until the four forward tubes were empty. The automated systems had shorted out; each tube had only one shot. The four missiles shot forward and covered the short distance between the launching ship and the target ship in under ten seconds. These were naquadah enhanced sub-kiloton nuclear warheads atop Shipwreck missiles. The _Concord_ had gone through her stores of sixty photon torpedoes quite quickly and had turned to the Shipwrecks and Harpoons still in storage.

The four missiles had no targeting data. Their on-board computer systems quickly interrogated the IFF transponders of nearby ships. All four reached the same conclusion nearly simultaneously. The large blob on radar directly ahead was the enemy; no IFF received. The first missile flew in through an open hangar door and exploded within the ship, its naquadah enhanced warhead setting off large secondary explosions that began to spread to other hangars on that section. The second and third missiles struck the central support column, each one tearing off enough of a chunk of superstructure that the column collapsed. The fourth missile was detonated just inside the space created by the upper and lower halves, by a lucky shot from an anti-fighter turret. The shockwave from the explosion served to further push the two halves apart.

The first battle of the war was now over. The remaining _Ha'tak_ fled into hyperspace and away from the scene of the fight, taking with her the news of the defeat of the fleet. Scattered around the system was large debris from fifteen _Ha'tak_s, and equal number of _Basestar_s.

Marcus Constantine felt sick. Yes, he had seen warfare at its worst when he had been at the head of the Roman army, but this was different. So many lives lost in minutes. Though the battle in orbit was now done, another battle raged on the surface. The _Dallas_ was moving forward to help the _Concord_ and his SAR craft were searching through the debris fields looking for downed pilots. The aftermath was far worse than the battle.

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_**City of New Tollana**_

The Tollan, living for centuries in peace, were unprepared for the realities of war. The more important buildings were shielded, using the Ramos force shields, but the general population were left to fend for themselves. As soon as the first enemy soldiers were detected on the surface, a call sounded, ordering the population to the shelters. The Tollan might have been advanced, they might have seen the Tau'ri as primitives, but they had almost no defenses other than their ion cannons. The few security forces they had were tasked more commonly with keeping law and order, not with defense of the city.

Narim was standing at the window of the Curia, looking out over the city he loved so much. High Chancellor Travell was at his side as well. They were hoping to see the Tau'ri security forces enter the city before the enemy did. And their luck held out in this case. They had seen the deployment pods come down on their scanners. But they hadn't seen anything since that event some minutes ago. Now, though, they did see something. In the distant skies, they could see smoke trails, though they knew not what was creating those trails.

The Harriers and Yaks had been the first to launch. The ground commander had ordered the Harriers to target the landing craft and the Yaks to lay down cluster bombs over the advancing troops. For the pilots in the Yaks, they were amazed at the sheer stupidity of the ground troops. They were advancing line-abreast in box formations! The large formations made laying down the cluster bombs easy. Four of the Yaks were also carrying CB-78s, the mine dispersal version of the Rockeye cluster bomb. For the safety of the Tollans, the self destruct timers had been set to detonate the mines fifteen minutes after they were dropped. Each of the 78s carried 60 anti-personnel mines, and the Yaks managed to lay down a pattern in front of the advancing troops of approximately 240 mines.

The Harriers advanced on the landing craft by first flying away from the advancing troops on a line perpendicular to their approach, then reversing course to come in behind the landing ships. The Jaffa warriors of Anubis' fleet had come in via _Al'kesh_ bombers. These eight ships were still disgorging their troops and had planned to fly in support of them once the off-loading was completed. The Harriers were carrying six AGM-65s each, and as there were eight of them, each plane targeted all of its missiles on a single _Al'kesh_ each.

The Jaffa on the ground could hear a far off whine in the sky, but could not place its location. None of them considered that an attack was coming. A few dozen looked up in time to see bright streaks of fire in the sky just before those same bright streaks impacted on their ships. Eighteen hundred pounds of explosives hit each _Al'kesh_, immolating them and the troops that were still off-loading. It was unfortunate for the Jaffa that the standard _Al'kesh_ transport had all of its guns in a turret on the bottom of the hull. They had no defenses against the onslaught of missiles that came from far away. The Harriers retreated to their base to re-arm and refuel, but not before each one dropped one pair of unguided Mk. 82 500-pound bombs on the ships they had targeted, further adding to the chaos on the ground

In the Curia building, Narim and Travell could see smoke rising in the distance, and they hoped that some of the enemy had met their deaths. But Narim turned to the window again, hearing a strange thrumming sound, like a fast beat on a drum. He could not identify the noise, until a moment later, numerous aircraft with rotating wings above them flew low and slow over the city proper, searching out targets to destroy. These flew ahead of the vehicles that were now coming into sight. Though he could not identify the types of vehicles, they were APCs carrying troops and medics, MLRS and Stingrays, and behind them the Paladins were lumbering, bringing up the rear. The ones with the long guns and the box like units on their backs advanced to the far edge of the city, in the direction of the advancing Cylon troops.

The cluster bomblets and the mines had depleted their numbers, but there were still several thousand advancing on the city, and all from the same direction. These Cylons, advanced though they were, knew nothing about attacking a city. The Paladins stopped where they were and dropped their jacks, anchoring and stabilizing them for long range fire. Behind them, a row of MLRSs were doing the same thing. The lead MLRS elevated its launcher, adjusting for wind and distance, and prepared to fire. The Paladins fired first, laying down a smoke barrier close in to shield the defending force from visual targeting by the enemy.

Then came the first salvo from the MLRS units. Each fired twelve rockets and each rocket carried six hundred and forty-four submunitions designed to detonate on impact. Each MLRS unit fired its entire load in a ripple pattern to cover the largest area possible, and each one fired its pattern so that it landed with sufficient overlap to saturate the area. The units fired their salvoes about thirty seconds apart, in effect creating an almost continuous hail of bomblets that rained down on the advancing enemy. On either side of the artillery pieces, troops were dismounting from their APCs, and setting up positions from which to engage the enemy.

In the Curia Building, Travell could see the effect of the rocket launches. Her sensors showed that each group of rockets covered an area of two hundred thousand square meters, though these were overlapping somewhat. The effect, she saw, was a rainstorm of death over the enemy. She was completely grateful at that moment that the Tau'ri were on their side. She could not begin to imagine the devastation such a weapon might cause to her people had they decided to take a hostile approach to the Tau'ri. She admired them for their bravery and their ingenuity. They were still a primitive species, but they were honorable.

When she had first been informed of the idea of an alliance, she'd had her doubts about the situation. The agreement that had formed the Alliance of Independent Systems had at its core, a mutual defense pact. If one member world came under attack, the other member worlds would rally to their defense. The Tollan did have ships, and they were light-speed capable, but they did not have a vast number of them. They were used for locating habitable worlds on which to spread their progeny, not for defense, though they were armed. They'd had only one ship in orbit when the attack came, and it managed to hold off the enemy just long enough for her to call for help. In less than a minute, pieces of the ship began to burn up in the atmosphere after its destruction. And the next target after the ship was New Tollana's only orbital station. She turned her attention back to the fighting below her.

The Cylon warriors that emerged from the destruction laid down by the first salvo of rockets had been decimated. Some were walking, but were missing an arm. Behind them, over a thousand of their mechanical comrades lay in smoking piles of metal and wire. They could see the city now, still some five thousand meters distant. Another round of rockets came in, dropping their number by fifteen hundred more. Now those at the front heard something entirely different. Like a fast beating drum. They scanned the area around them and saw nothing but trees and short hills.

Behind those short hills, the Apache helicopters were taking every possible advantage of the coverage offered by the terrain. The pod with the Marine Expeditionary unit had carried eight Apaches, while the pod with the Armored Cavalry Regiment, had carried sixteen, and sixteen Werewolves as well. A Cylon happened to turn in the right direction to see a pair of Apaches pop up from behind a hill, but was unable to give any sort of warning to his fellows before slugs from the nose-mounted thirty millimeter cannons tore into their ranks.

A few hundred feet to one side of the first pair of Apaches, a second pair popped up. They hovered for a moment as the gunner took aim with the targeting sensor and let fly with the full load of seventy-six 70 millimeter rockets. But these rockets didn't have a high explosive warhead. They had, instead, a submunition called a flechette, which was a highly sharpened steel dart. When the submunitions were deployed by the rocket, they flew at the targets in a disk like mass for a few seconds before spreading out. The impact wasn't explosive. The steel darts were designed to impart kinetic energy into their targets, and were excellent for anti-personnel reasons.

In the Curia building, Narim glanced skyward and was surprised to see more of these rotary wing aircraft diving down on what was left of the advancing enemy troops. But these aircraft, though similar in appearance to the ones low on the ground, seemed to have two sets of rotating wings, one set slightly below the other. He wondered at the different designs for a moment, but only a moment, as these new craft pulled up at what seemed the last moment before striking the ground. He thought the manoeuvre strange until he realized that these craft had dropped bombs on the few remaining enemy troops. When the smoke and dust cleared, all of the enemy troops had been killed by the combined air and artillery assault.

Minutes later, troops of the Tau'ri swarmed the field, looking for survivors. There were none, but there were enough weapons that they began picking them up. Anything salvageable off the enemy was picked up.

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_**Risa**_

_**First Battle of Risa**_

The Goa'uld had long known that the ranks of the Tok'ra were small and it was for this reason that Anubis had sent only two _Ha'tak_s and four _Al'kesh_ to lay waste to the base of the Tok'ra. The Jaffa warriors in the vessels over the planet were new and untested in battle. Anubis had thought this an easy conquest and had sent these warriors here to test their mettle. He didn't count on a fleet from the Tau'ri arriving.

There weren't enough officers of command rank available in the Alliance. Though command of this fleet should have gone to an Admiral, it went instead to the man who had formerly served as third-shift commander aboard the _Halsey_, Kapitan Tretyego Ranga Grigori Ivanov. His flagship, the _Douglas Munro_, was ready in all respects to drop from hyperspace. The _Normandy_ and the _Nova_ led the charge out of jump space, with guns blazing and missiles leaving their tubes as quickly as their gunners could get a target lock. Behind them, the _Langley_, _Ranger_, _Yorktown_, and _Wasp_ were launching their _Thunderbolt_ fighters to deal with the few enemy fighters in the system. The _Poseidon_ and the _Hera_ remained behind to provide cover for the now mostly defenseless escort carriers. _Thunderbolts_ zoomed into the fight with the enemy fighters, quickly cutting through their inexperienced ranks and carving an unobstructed path to the _Ha'taks_. The two dreadnoughts broke apart and headed for the two Goa'uld carrier vessels, each one taking a target. Neither _Ha'tak_ could stand the punishment it was taking from the combined assault of heavy plasma, neutron, and fusion beams, as they each exploded in spectacular bursts of light. The four _Al'kesh_ bombers that had been preparing to land on the surface of Risa instead turned away from the surface and streaked up into orbit to assist their bigger cousins. They were no match for the small Shadow cannons that the dreadnoughts had in reserve. Purple beams lanced out, carving the four _Al'kesh_ into oddly sized chunks.

Before Captain Ivanov could so much as order troops to the surface, the battle had ended. It would now be a rescue operation to help the Tok'ra dig out from their collapsed tunnels.

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_**Kelowna**_

There was suddenly a lot of debris in the system. The wreckage of twenty _Ha'tak_s littered the space above Kelowna. The remaining four _Ha'tak_s, badly damaged, had managed to escape back to friendlier spaces. The two _Basestar_s had not been easy to defeat, but the flexibility of his _Whitestar_s had turned the tide against the Cylons. With swift passes, they had knocked out weapon emplacements, and engines, leaving the ships to drift. More passes and the hangar bay doors had been sealed, preventing the Cylon fighters from returning to rearm. Even the fighters had proven ineffective against the ships of the _Caprica_ strike group. The _Caprica_'s _Viper_ squadrons had made quick work of the _Udajeet_s, and the few _Thunderbolts_ in the strike group had launched a devastating attack on the _Ha'tak_s. The _Viper_ was designed first and foremost as a fighter killer, not a ship killer. But the _Thunderbolt_ fighters handled the ship killing quite effectively. The ten external hard points for missiles made them most formidable.

This attack force had not managed to land troops on the surface, and for that Methos was entirely grateful. He had no easy means of deploying troops to the surface. But the battle was over for now. Now came the cleanup. For this, he directed the _Peregrine_s, as they had tractor beams, to collect all of the pieces into one central area, where the engineers he had aboard could scavenge through the sections, looking for usable items. The _Caprica_ had launched a number of shuttles to go out and perform the duty normally relegated to SAR ships, but only the _Halsey_ and her sister ships carried those big _Bulldog_ SAR craft. An oversight he planned to bring up as soon as he returned to Luna.

The one good thing that had come out of this engagement was that it looked like they had managed to capture a nearly intact Cylon _Basestar_. His ground commander was busily organizing his troops to go over and seize the vessel.

"Sir, communications from the surface."

"Visual please. Ah, Jonas Quinn. I trust all is well on the surface?"

"Adam? I'm glad to see you're ok. Everything is well enough down here. None of their troops managed to land. How did it go up there?"

"Lots of pilots down, and some damage to our ships, but nothing a few hours of repair won't cure."

"On behalf of the new government of Langara, I wish to express my condolences at the loss of your pilots, and the gratitude for your timely rescue. Though we have no space going vessels to aid you in orbit, I have been authorized by my government to inform you that we have five hundred pilots and over one thousand ground troopers who have volunteered for duty with the Alliance."

"New government?"

"The other two powers of this world have come together with us to form an alliance. They chose the ancient name for this world; Langara."

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_**Luna**_

"Marius, there's an incoming communication from the fleet at New Tollana."

"I'll be there shortly."

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_**Command Center**_

_**Third Watch**_

"Ok, put the call through."

"Mr. President."

"Marcus. How went the battle?"

"The battle is over for now and we are victorious."

"Good. Casualties?"

"Some. _Falcon_ flight group was wiped out, but their crews managed to eject just in time. The battlecruisers lost all of their fighters but have managed to recover most of their pilots. The _Lexington_ is operating on emergency power, and is presently without both shields and fighter cover. The _Concord_ was cut in two by point blank firings of the Cylon heavy pulsar cannons. SAR operations are underway. We've got a couple of _Basestar_s that we managed to cut in half. The four saucer-like sections are drifting for the moment. I have the remaining _Peregrine_s out collecting the debris and marshalling it to one area. The _Dallas_ and the _Ryan_ are trying to bring those saucer sections under control so that we can salvage their contents.

"The enemy managed to land a significant number of troops on the surface, but these troops are far from enlightened. Would you believe they approached the City in line-abreast formations? For all their advancements in science, they leave a lot to be desired when it comes to the warfare that you and I are so familiar with. My forces on the ground cut them down before they could get within four thousand meters of the city proper."

"Do you require assistance?"

"I wouldn't turn it down."

"Ok. The cupboard is mighty bare, but I'll see what I can do. Luna out."

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"Sir, another call coming in."

"From?"

"Commander Pierson, sir."

"On screen."

"Marius. I hope all is well there?"

"It is. How went your battle?"

"We were victorious. SAR crews are out and about now."

"Many casualties?"

"Some minor damage to the fleet, but nothing a few hours repair time won't solve. We did lose _Kite_ and _Sparhawk_ flights, but their crews have been picked up. The _Caprica_ has all of her fighters, but the battlecruisers can maybe put together one fighter group between them. On the other hand, the Kelownan government have offered us five hundred replacement pilots, and a thousand ground troopers."

"Ask them to send them via Stargate, would you Methos? How are you fixed for munitions?"

"The battlecruisers expended all of their ordinance. _Caprica_ is still mostly at full levels, but her missiles and torpedoes aren't compatible with our tubes."

"Ok. I'll see what I can do on this end. Luna out."

"More news, sir. Kapitan Ivanov reports victory over Risa. The Goa'uld were soundly defeated and no troops were able to land on the surface. Rescue operations are underway. Apparently the Goa'uld vessels bombarded the planet from orbit, and a number of the Tok'ra tunnels have collapsed."

"Send him a 'Well Done!' and find out what he needs?"

"Aye sir."

Marius walked the short distance from the command center in the main dome, to the offices of the IDB, in the adjacent auxiliary dome. He found Mitch sitting at his desk, going over the latest reports on manpower and materiel at the shipyards.

"Mitch."

"Mr. President. Did the battles go well?"

"Yes and no. We won, three times, but we suffered casualties in terms of personnel and ships. We lost one _Hyperion_, and twelve gunboats. Another _Hyperion_ is on emergency power and has no shields at the moment."

"Ouch."

"Ya know, when I initially drew up the plans for the _Halsey_ and her class, she was intended to be a long range support vessel, carrying extra fighters and supplies. But you guys changed that. We managed to procure one ship and build another while we were 'away', but those two support ships aren't going to be enough. Those long range tenders are excellent for repairing ships away from a space dock, and they can carry an awful lot of cargo. _Halsey_'s strike group went through about half of their ordinance, and the _Caprica_ group? The _Caprica_ is pretty full, but the rest are ships that came from the IDB shipyards, and unfortunately their missiles and torpedoes aren't compatible with our tubes.

"You've seen the database of ship schematics we brought back. How soon to build more long range tenders? Stock as it is in the specs? No special armor on it, just add the shield generators."

"Well since we won't have to grow the armor, maybe five days to get the ship completed. It's not an overly complex ship as it's mostly cargo space and collapsible dock structures."

"Do it faster if possible. How many replacement fighters do we have available at the moment?"

"We have the fighters that were due to be a part of the _Kuznetsov_. "

"I know you said the battleships won't normally carry fighters, but just how much deck space is there?"

"Room for one hundred, maybe one-twenty. I see where you're going with this. I'll get the fighters loaded aboard the ships. One to each group, yes?"

"Yep. How many fighters would you have to pull out if I wanted to send ten _Construction Furys_ on each ship?"

"Five less fighters."

"Get it done as soon as possible. Those two strike groups need the support."

"I'm on it."

"One more thing, Mitch. You know as well as I do that our resources are stretched way too thin. The Colonials are even worse off than we are, even though their shipyards were a gift from the Ancients. And Earth is pretty much screwed in that department. They don't have any orbital facilities, other than _Indy_ Station, and she doesn't have any large scale construction yards. So I'm wondering if we can build a short, say couple hundred meters, ship who's primary mission is assault and capture of other ships? Say, rig it with transporters of sufficient size and power such that we can beam to a target ship in large numbers? Maybe give it just enough weaponry to defend itself against fighters? Ya know, one of the weapons we brought back from the UFP universe was something called an energy dampener. Maybe that would work?"

"I'll see what I can do. Have a good day Boss."

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_**Twelve Hours Later**_

_**Tollana System**_

"Sir! Long range sensors show a ship approaching! Configuration unknown!"

"Damn it. Bring the fleet back to red alert. Ready all weapons and guns. Get our SAR crews clear of the area."

The ship that came out of the hyperspace conduit was like none the crews had ever seen before. Long and something of a cross between a cylinder and an elongated rectangle, the ship sported six massive looking gun turrets.

"_Halsey_. This is Alliance vessel _Castor_. How copy, over?"

"_Castor_?"

"New ship sir. Fresh off the assembly line. President Marius sends his regards. We have some replacement fighters for you, but no pilots. We also have some cargo containers lashed to the deck. These are for you as well. Replacement ordinance, I believe."

"Damn. You are a sight for sore eyes, _Castor_. I'll get my pilots over to your ship on the double. How many fighters you got for us?"

"We fit in as many as we could. One hundred and ten. We've also got ten _Construction Fury_s to relieve the strain on the ships doing clean-up duty."

"Those will certainly help. My _Peregrine_s need down time and maintenance."

"That's what we're here for. We can't service the gunboats, but we can service fighters."

"What about the _Concord_?"

"She'll be pulled into orbit. The _Nightingale_ is about an hour behind us, and she'll take care of the _Concord_. In the meantime, the President asked that as soon as you are able, to take all of your ships except the _Tollana_ and the _Dallas_, back to Lunar space for refitting. The _Castor_ will remain in the system to support the battlecruisers."

"Roger that. We still need to retrieve our deployment pods, but after that, we'll depart. _Halsey_ out."

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_**Sol System**_

_**Three days later**_

The two strike groups had come back, each one slightly smaller than when they had left. Replacement gunboats were quickly put together and shipped up to the fleets that had lost them. Replacement fighters also went to the fleets. The strike carrier _Kuznetsov_ had finally come out of the shipyard, and she replaced the _Caprica_ for that strike group. The _Lexington_ was in the shipyard, having her shield generators replaced, while the remaining ships took on ordinance that brought their missile and torpedoes stores back up to full. The day after the fleets returned, _Galactica_ came out of space dock, freeing up the Phobos shipyard to build more support ships.

Still, the _Castor_ was calling almost daily back to Luna, requesting tankers to offload the solium and tylium they'd managed to recover from the now-dead Cylon saucer sections. One of the destroyed hulks had apparently been sent along as a replenishment ship as her holds were chock full of spare parts for fighters, and additional armaments for the fleet. But there were too few freighters available at the moment, something that had been overlooked in the requests for ships. The IDB and Colonial shipyards now had J Class freighters on their build lists, but they were far down the lists for the moment.

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_**Tartarus**_

_**Base of Anubis**_

Metak, First Prime to the God Svarog led what was left of his fleet out of hyperspace and into a barely maintainable orbit over Tartarus. He'd already learned that his God had fallen in the battle for Tollana. He could not understand how a God could die. Perhaps, he thought, there was something to what the Shol'va Teal'c was known for stating? That the Goa'uld are, in actuality, false Gods? But that mere thought was heresy to one such as he. But for now, he faced an altogether different problem than the contemplation of his Gods. He had to report his failure to capture Kelowna and the source of the naquadria to Anubis. And, he knew all too well, Anubis did not tolerate failure.

Metak ringed down in person to see Anubis, asking his most trusted comrade that if he failed to return from the planet below, to take in his wife and sons as his own.

"My Lord."

"Speak."

"We were defeated, my Lord. The Tau'ri responded to our attack with severe force, destroying twenty _Ha'tak_s and the two ships of our allies."

"How is this possible! They could not have built enough ships to destroy your forces and those of Svarog!"

"This I do not have an answer for, my Lord. Their weapons were unlike any we have ever seen. Their largest ship had weapons to equal our allies, but there were two smaller vessels, whose designs I have never before seen, that fired beams of such intensity that they were able to pierce through our shields with relative ease."

"Show me these vessels!"

Metak waved a hand at one of his lesser subordinates and images of the battle replayed on the main screen for Anubis to examine. The lesser Jaffa pressed something on the control panel, isolating a shot of one of the _Whitestar_s and allowing Anubis to examine the ship in some detail.

"You have only visual images of these ships. Why is no sensor data available?"

"My Lord, our sensors, even at maximum power, were unable to penetrate their shields."

"Hesa! Thoth! I require your presence immediately!"

"You summoned us, My Lord?"

"Yes. I find these new vessels of the Tau'ri troubling. Take a task force immediately to Kelowna. Capture these and any other Tau'ri vessels of unusual design and return them to me! I must have their secrets! I will request an equally large taskforce from our allies. Go! Now! At once!"

It was a matter of hours before a rebel Jaffa learned of the new plan to attack Langara. Using the network of Jaffa informants the Rebels had created, the message was quickly passed along to the encampment on the world the Tau'ri called the Beta Site. The news that an even larger fleet was being assembled to take control of Langara was not any good. The _Lexington_ was still being repaired; with new hull sections being replicated to replace the damaged ones. The _Hyperion_ would take her place, and she was to go ahead and wait in hyperspace for the Goa'uld fleet to arrive. She was to take the _Raleigh_ and the _Seattle_ and use them to lay down a field of cloaked anti-matter mines. The _Halsey_ and _Kuznetsov_ strike groups would be behind them by twelve hours. All ships were to remain in hyperspace until the _Pollux_ could pass along accurate targeting data, which the fleet in hyperspace would use to create jump points into the attacking fleet.

A day passed. The _Halsey_ and _Kuznetsov_ strike groups joined the _Hyperion_ in hyperspace, but no Goa'uld fleet. Another day passed. Then two. Then four. A week. More ships made the trek in hyperspace to join the strike groups already there. The _Taurus_, another _Constellation_-class battleship pulled into position with the _Kuznetsov_, bringing with them two hastily assembled _Trooper_-class assault vessels, the _Militant_ and the _Guardsman_. Another _Hyperion_, the _Bunker_ _Hill_, arrived with four more _Whitestar_s; the _Midway_, _Kursk_, _Anzio_, and _Stalingrad_.

After having had his ship shot out from under him, Captain Koth, late of the Klingon Empire, had made a formal request to be executed. It was nearly unheard of, for a Klingon, to lose his ship but to remain alive. Marius denied his request, but did give his reasons for it.

"Request denied."

"I have lost my ship, Admiral. My honor has been taken from me!"

"Nonsense! Do you really think that just because you lost your ship, in combat, to a force far larger than your own, that doing so has cost you your honor? I think not! I too, have faced untenable situations where I have survived because I had the will to do so! Decades ago, the Earth was involved in a war that stretched across continents and nations. I was a fighter pilot then. Do you realize what that means? The 'ship' I flew was maybe 30 feet in length and had a wingspan of nearly forty feet. Dramatically smaller than the _Peregrine_ fighters the Federation had and that we now use as gunboats. No shields, no energy weapons. Just me and a bunch of fabric-covered wood. But I flew those small fighters, without computer help, and I took down scores of enemy planes in combat.

"But the most important thing you must realize is that as of ten years ago, my Earth had no space going fleet. Well, we did have shuttles, but they were limited to the space around Earth, and most importantly, they had absolutely no weapons. Four years ago, the _Prometheus_ project was conceived, and after a long construction period, it finally flew. But up until a little less than two years ago, it was our only ship. Do you see where I am headed with this?"

"I do not. The _Prometheus_ was your only ship? How is that possible?"

"We did not have any sort of orbital facilities, Koth. The ship was built on Earth in an underground hangar facility. But the point I'm trying to make is this; you are among a very few people I can call upon to Captain a ship. Yes it's true, that Earth does have navies, and that those navies do have ship captains, but, and this is a critical issue, those ship's captains command sea-going vessels. There are perhaps a dozen or so officers of command rank, that have any sort of experience in space. You are among those officers, Koth, and quite frankly, I need you. So, enough of this ritual suicide nonsense. Yes, the _Concord_ was a good ship, and she will be rebuilt. But for now, I want you to command the _Taurus_, our newest battleship"

"You honor me with your request. But I have one of my own to make as well. You have need of experienced captains. I can not grant this to you. My father, Torath, is the elder of House Torla. He was once a General and commanded the fleets of our House. The reason only thirty-two of us are left, is that many of our proud warriors fell in battle with the Dominion. Entire fleets were destroyed. He is old, true, but he has the heart of a warrior. I will take you to him. You will know what to do. Then I will transfer my command to the _Taurus_."

"Very good."

The walk from the Administration sector to the housing sector of Dome Ryan was not a long one, but it gave Marius a chance to formulate his thoughts, and to look out onto the surface of Luna. In the distance he could see the work crews working under the force fields at Darwin Crater. The energy shield kept out harmful radiation, allowing the crews to work in less complex suits than a full environmental suit. But the majority of the work crews were over at Beaumont Crater, which was to be turned into farmland suitable for growing the crops that Luna depended on. Darwin would become the new home for the IDB, and its surface shipyards. It wasn't long before he was standing in front of a door to one of the larger communal type domiciles, this one with a stylized Klingon banner hanging over the entrance.

Over the next few minutes, Marius explained his proposal to Torath, who accepted the challenge of training Humans to be worthy of command of the vessels of the Alliance. Among the members of the first class would be William Scully, who was slated to take command of the _Defiant_-class heavy escort, the _Spirit_, pending successful completion of his class.

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_**Langara**_

_**Second Battle of Langara**_

The news of the impending second attack on Langara had been passed along to the governments of Langara as soon as it had been received. But a week later, and there was no sign of the Goa'uld/Cylon attack fleet. Just as they reduced the planetary alert level, the attack fleet appeared.

"My Lord, there are three vessels in orbit over the planet. Our sensors can not penetrate their shields."

"Open a channel!"

"Channel open, my Lord."

"People of Langara! You will bow down before your Gods and worship us! We require your absolute subservience. You will give to us the substance naquadria. Or we will destroy your world and take it."

"My Lord, we are receiving a transmission from one of the three ships in orbit."

"…Goa'uld and Cylon vessels. You have trespassed into Alliance-controlled space. Leave the area immediately. This is your only warning."

"Insolence! Launch all fighters! Bring our ships into weapons range!"

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"Sir, they're launching fighters."

"Good. I'd rather hoped to have the opportunity to try out the systems on the _Pollux_. Order all ships to activate their IFF transponders. Activate the mine field. Weps, how soon until those ships out there are in range of our main guns?"

"Thirty seconds sir."

"Weps, pass along targeting data to the fleet. Prepare main guns for firing."

----------------------------------------

"My Lord! Our fighters are reporting a mine field! They are being destroyed!"

"Press the attack! I will show these impudent Tau'ri the price for their defiance!"

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"Weps, distance to the closest cap ship?"

"Front rank of ships have now entered weapons range."

"Excellent. Comms, ask the _Taurus_ to jump in behind that fleet. Let's see if we can catch them in a crossfire. Weps, give them two salvoes from our main guns, then request the fleet join in."

"Aye sir. Main guns firing now!"

The _Pollux_ had turned her broadside to the advancing enemy ships, bringing all six of her main guns to bear. Each gun turret had four barrels, the outer two of which were Vorlon cannons, with the inner two firing anti-matter shells. The first barrels to be fired from each gun turret housed the Vorlon cannons. Each gun had been targeted on a different ship. The beams of the Vorlon guns reached out to hit their targets, easily punching through the armored hulls of the Cylon ships and cutting through the vessels completely. The _Pollux_ had managed to draw first blood in this battle, with the disabling of six Cylon ships. The inner two guns on each turret had a shorter ranger than their two larger brothers, but their effect was even more devastating. The 'shells' were small magnetic containers holding one kilogram of antimatter. The magnetic containment units would decay quickly over a short distance, and immediately upon contact with any surface. The result was a devastating barrage of anti-matter aimed at a ship. And, as any science geek would tell you, anti-matter and regular matter tend not to mix well at all.

The next weapons to fire were the phase shifting Shipwrecks, from the side mounted tubes, but unlike the similar caliber of torpedo that Starfleet had utilized, these possessed naquadah enhanced warheads of a sub-kiloton variety. Along the front ranks of Goa'uld motherships, six of the vessels staggered and began to fall behind the other ships as the torpedoes struck true in their targeting, easily penetrating the shields and exploding on the lightly armored hull.

The fighters of the enemy fleet had not fared well and the mines they'd run into had decimated their numbers. The two escorts for the _Pollux_, the _Kelowna_ and the _Dallas_, opened up with their point defense systems, adding their fire to the anti-fighter turret fire coming from the _Pollux_, and cutting large swaths through the ranks of the approaching fighters. It was inevitable that some of the enemy fighters would get past their ships, and for this reason, the fighter squadrons from the _Kelowna_ and the _Dallas_ were waiting behind the bulk of the _Pollux_ to give chase to those fighters headed into the atmosphere of Langara.

The main guns of the _Pollux_ fired a second time, destroying five previously damaged ships and disabling six more. The front ranks of the attack fleet were now scattered and in disarray. This was how the fleet, making their jump into the system from hyperspace, found them. Easy targets that fell to the immense energies of the exit vortices. A total of eighteen vortices opened in the fabric of space, and some thirty nine ships, that were in close proximity to the exit vortices, were vaporized by the release of energy. The assault ships, _Militant_ and _Guardsman_, jumped in with the _Taurus_, which had come in behind the enemy fleet. Her main guns added to the melee that was the enemy fleet caught between the pounding heavy guns of two _Constellation_-class battleships, and the Alliance fleet that had jumped into the middle of their formation. The _Pollux_ began moving forward towards the fleet, her big guns firing almost continuously, damaging and destroying ships in this very one sided battle. Anubis had greatly underestimated the survival instincts of the Tau'ri, and now his fleet was paying that price.

With the _Taurus_ covering their forward movement, the _Militant_ and _Guardsman_ moved up to tackle one target each. The ships themselves were heavily armored and heavily shielded, to withstand repeated hits while they deployed their troops onto an enemy ship. Each ship had a Cylon _Basestar_ in its sights. The main guns for both ships were based on the energy dampening technology they'd obtained from the Dominion. The _Militant_ fired first, and the beam struck true, draining the energy stores of the _Basestar_ to port of the ship. Within the _Basestar_, the Cylons aboard all stopped when the cascading energy wave hit them. The _Basestar_ stopped dead in space, and all power emissions dropped to zero. The troops began materializing aboard her, all wearing light duty force fields and life support helmets.

The _Guardsman_ fired shortly after the _Militant_, bringing another _Basestar_ to a complete halt. While both ships began sending their troops over, the ships turned to face other _Basestar_s that were now approaching them, and firing their main guns from long range. It didn't matter where the guns struck the ships, as the effect was always the same. Ships halted wherever they were, their energy stores drained, and the Cylons aboard them stuck fast to their last position.

Aboard the first _Basestar_, the one stopped by the _Militant_, two hundred and fifty troops had been beamed aboard to one spot. They began moving out in pairs to clean the ship of the Cylon presence. They were armed with Zats and with phase pistols. Their orders were to vaporize any Cylons they encountered, alive or otherwise, but to remove any weapons from the targets if at all possible. One pair of troopers found a veritable treasure trove of armaments in what looked like an armory, while another chanced upon the fuel tanks and found them to be full with the fuel the Colonials used.

Outside the two now captured _Basestar_s, the battle raged on. Two more _Basestar_s fell to the energy dampening guns, and two more sets of troopers were beamed over, leaving both Assault vessels empty of troops to dispatch, but they continued firing their main guns, bringing down more and more Cylon vessels.

The brutal crossfire which the Goa'uld found themselves in, between the heavy beam weapons of the _Pollux_ and the _Taurus_, was tearing into the shields of the _Ha'tak_s, draining them to near depletion for some and punching through the near non-existent shields for others. The Goa'uld Thoth had been charged by Anubis with the capture of any and all Tau'ri vessels, but it was looking more and more like he would be lucky to escape with his life. Already the _Ha'tak_ controlled by Hesa had been obliterated when first its shields collapsed, then the vessel was hit by five torpedoes of a type that appeared to have a Tollan phase shifting device embedded on them. The weapons passed through the outer hull as if it wasn't there only to explode deep within the ship. Hesa had been talking to him on the Vo'cuum when the devices had exploded. He had seen the other Goa'uld vaporized before the picture was shut off. It was not something he cared to see happen to himself. These Tau'ri, these insolent humans, they would be made to pay a thousand times for what they had done to him and to Hesa and to Svarog.

That time would come, but it would not be today. Thoth ordered what was left of the fleet, six ships, to retreat. They almost made it. Just as he gave the order to pull away from the defenders, more ships appeared in the system. Three Asgard battleships. Against those ships, he knew what was left of his fleet would stand no chance. But they were blocking his path of retreat. He had no choice but to order the other ships to their deaths. It made no difference to him as they were crewed only by Jaffa. He saw an opportunity to flee and he did so, leaving the other five, nearly intact _Ha'tak_s to cover his retreat. Metak had once been First Prime to Svarog. But his God was dead. An incomprehensible thing, but it was true. Svarog had not arisen from the last battle with the Tau'ri. So being a reasonable man, even for a Jaffa, before the ships he commanded could open fire, he ordered a signal of surrender be sent out. But only if the one known as Teal'c were to come to speak to him.

A day later, Teal'c arrived on the fleet tender _Attendant_. The ship arrived in system with the third battleship, the _Orion_, and four more flights of _Peregrine_ Gunboats, along with two former Colonial freighters that had been pressed into military duty, carrying extra supplies for the 1st and 2nd fleets. Immediately after her arrival, the _Attendant_ deployed her mobile docking arms and the ships in system began pulling up along side to restock and replenish expended ordinance. The ship itself carried no fighters, but it did have a full compliment of _Construction Fury_s, which enabled the ship to round up the stray bits of ships that littered the space around Langara.

Teal'c convinced Metak and his fellow Jaffa to join the rebellion, and they added their five _Ha'tak_s to the Rebels ever-growing fleet of vessels. The five _Ha'tak_s flew off, first to Luna under escort for repairs, then to the Beta site, where the Jaffa Rebels were currently encamped, again under escort.

The troopers from the _Militant_ and the _Guardsman_ had managed to capture six Cylon _Basestar_s nearly intact. The Cylon vessels had numerous circuits that had burnt out when the energy dampening pulse had hit them, but except for that, they were operational. The _Basestar_s would eventually be split into their obvious halves, with each half serving duty as a station in orbit of one of the major member worlds of the Alliance. Temporary duty until such time as actual stations could be constructed. But for now, these Cylon halves could defend themselves and could house numerous squadrons of fighters.

In the Sol system, the shipyards of the Colonials were busily churning out _Viper_ and _Thunderbolt_ fighters for these new temporary stations, and as replacements for the fleet. It was a sad tale, but both the 1st and 2nd fleets had lost over half of their fighters, though luckily, more than ninety percent of the pilots had managed to eject safely. The only two Colonial freighters currently in service had been joined by eight _Camel_-class military freighters the _Halsey_ had bought from the Ferengi, and all were busily replenishing the fleets at Langara, shuttling back and forth under armed escort between the fleets and the supply station in orbit over Luna.

The Kelownans proved true to their word and provided the five hundred pilots they had offered. Three hundred of them would stay in Kelownan orbit to man the fighters that would be delivered to their new, if temporary, station. The remainder of the pilots were delivered via Stargate to the instructional facility on Luna for advanced training. They joined one hundred Tollan and over a thousand pilots from Earth nations in the first training class. The officers destined for shipboard command duties would quickly realize that Torath of House Torla was a brutal taskmaster, and those pilots and ground personnel would see that the Immortals were no less strict than the Klingon.

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_**Tartarus**_

_**Base of Anubis**_

Thoth was a Goa'uld with a problem. The fleet Anubis had given to him and to Hesa should have been more than enough to defeat the Tau'ri, but it was he who had been defeated. The _Ha'tak_ which Hesa had used as her command ship had been utterly destroyed in the opening moments of the battle. Now it fell to Thoth to report the news of this debacle to Anubis. It was not something he was looking forward to.

"My Lord Anubis. I have failed you. Hesa was killed in the opening shots of the battle, her command _Ha'tak_ destroyed utterly. The new ships of the Tau'ri proved to have previously unseen weapons and shields. Our Cylon allies fell quickly to some type of new beam weapon. The Tau'ri managed to capture almost all of their ships intact. I ordered my remaining ships to cover my retreat so that I might bring you this news."

"How can this be! It is not possible! These insignificant Tau'ri could not have advanced so quickly without outside help! We must locate these helpers of the Tau'ri and defeat them so that we might bring their technologies under our control. For now, we must wait. These recent battles have depleted our fleet strength. Thoth, you will continue work on our new weapon. It must be ready to deploy as soon as possible. I will speak with our allies. They will send ships against the Tau'ri to wear them down. This has become a war of attrition for the moment. The Tau'ri can not hope to sustain their effort for long. Leave us!"

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_**Sol Sector**_

_**Luna**_

It was a strange sight when the fleet returned to Sol space. There were six intact Cylon _Basestar_s with them. The six new ships were parked into a lunar-synchronous orbit over the IDB crater facility, where shuttles and transporter pads worked continuously to offload the supplies aboard those ships, and to upload new gadgets that would make the ships into the temporary stations they were destined to become.

From the shipyards over Luna, the _Spruance_ emerged, completed and ready for its shakedown cruise around the system. The _Spruance_ only had a minimal compliment of fighters as yet, for the most pressing need for fighters were to replenish those lost in battle to the other two strike forces. It was a grand ship with a grand name, one that hopefully would live up to the strategic history of its namesake.

The better part of a week went by with no attacks by Anubis on the Alliance. Stores of precious solium and tylium were offloaded from the captured _Basestar_s and transferred to the Colonials for their use. True to his promise to Jack Ryan, the Immortals had begun purchasing shipments of nuclear waste from first the United States and then from Russia. The waste was fed into the singularity generators on Luna for power production with the by-product being a tremendous amount of power and a substantial amount of anti-matter that for the moment was being used exclusively for weapons.

During the week of downtime, Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard fleet came to Luna for a regularly scheduled meeting of the Alliance High Council.

"Greetings President Marius. All is well?"

"As well as can be expected, Thor. Our first battles with Anubis' forces went to our favor, though we did lose a lot of fighters and unfortunately, some personnel as well. But for the moment, both Langara and Tollana are safe. The Tok'ra have temporarily relocated their base of operations from Risa to the Beta Site."

"Loss of life is always an unfortunate event, but when given for a greater cause, then it is a worthy sacrifice. The men and women who spent their lives will be remembered by the Alliance."

"I'm sure their families will take a small comfort in that regard. Speaking of sacrifice, have you had a chance to review the recent travels by the _Halsey_?"

"Yes. I find your reports most interesting. Were there any technologies that could help the Asgard?"

"Actually, yes. One of the races we encountered gave us the technology to build something called an energy dampener, which we have successfully used against the Cylons in the last engagement. For electrical equipment, it completely drains power. It may work for you against the Replicators. And, from another race, after we spoke to them of the difficulties you were having with cloning, we obtained their sum total research into that field. Apparently they mass produce clones to serve in a number of positions, from diplomatic, to soldiers. We also managed to obtain genetic samples of races that are similar to the Asgard."

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_**One week later**_

_**Alliance Council Meeting**_

_**1300 Hours**_

The seven permanent members of the Alliance council were present; Tau'ri, Colonial, Immortal, Tollan, Asgard, Langara, and the Ancients. There were representatives from various smaller worlds that were in the process of gaining membership and as such were considered temporary protectorates of the Alliance until such time as membership was either given or denied. Six of these representatives were present for this meeting; Tagrea, Talthus, Cimmeria, Orban, Amra, and Caledonia. Also present was the Goa'uld Goddess Bast (Bastet), representing Lord Yu and the Goa'uld Hegemony.

"This meeting of the Alliance Council is called to order. We have a long agenda and precious little time to go over everything in detail, but we shall attempt to do this in an orderly fashion. Let us begin with the Tau'ri Representative, President Jack Ryan of the United States."

"Thank you Mr. Chairman. Our planet, while still fragmented into small nation states, is united in our effort to defend against Anubis and his Cylon allies. To this end, I have been given the authority by the five permanent members of the UN Security Council to offer a force of five million ground personnel and one hundred thousand pilots. Construction continues apace on the new SA-43 fighters for this force of pilots, and we expect to be able to field five squadrons from each of the aforementioned nations by month's end. Also, with the new technologies given to us by the Immortal Council, a number of previously virulent diseases have been eradicated."

"Anything else to report, Mr. President?"

"Not at this time, Mr. Chairman."

"Very well. Let us move on to the Colonial Representative, Tigh, President of the Quorum of Twelve."

"Good morning, Mr. Chairman. Our construction programs are also proceeding with all due haste. The newest Battlestar, the _Caprica_, has already been blooded in battle, and has performed in excess of all our expectations. For the first time since our exodus from our home system, our fleet is at full strength in terms of fighters and pilots. Our three Battlestars stand ready to meet any demands placed on them by this Alliance. I will also report, at this time, the commencement of construction on two additional Battlestars, as yet un-named. While our population is beginning to flourish once again, it will be some time before we can offer any sort of ground personnel to this cause."

"Very well. I will give the report for the Immortal Council. Allow me to pass along the regrets of Marius, our President. The last time I saw him before this meeting, he was neck deep in paperwork. A task I feel he is highly qualified to accomplish and one I will hand over to him at any given opportunity. For the moment, construction on the remaining two strike carriers has ceased, while we process the remaining upgrades to their systems. However, construction of other vessels for the fleet continues at a break-neck pace. Within two weeks time, we will add six more _WhiteStar_-class frigates, bringing our total strength in this class to twelve. Additionally, we will add three more _Hyperion_ heavy cruisers, three more _Constellation_ battleships, and eight more _Defiant_ heavy escorts. Our secondary shipyards report that at the end of this same two week period, all ships capable of carrying fighters will have their full compliment aboard, along with the full fighter compliments for the six new planetary stations that are presently undergoing refurbishing for use by our allies.

"Lady Bast, I believe you are next on the agenda."

"Thank you Admiral Constantine. Our own construction efforts continue, but within the month, the first ships of our fleet will arrive for tasking orders. It is a difficult thing for myself and other system Lords to allow our ships to fall under Alliance control, however, we trust in our Jaffa to accomplish this task. Lord Yu has asked me to pass along his regrets at not attending this meeting, however, it has recently come to our attention that several members of the Goa'uld Hegemony have elected to switch sides in support of Lord Anubis. This has, unfortunately, halved our effective fighting force, but those ships that we can spare, will arrive as promised."

"How many ships will you be able to pledge to this cause, Lady Bast?"

"One hundred _Ha'tak_s, six hundred _Al'kesh_, and twenty _Shalkra_s."

"They will be well received by the Alliance, my Lady. You honor us with your pledge to this fight."

It was always a wise thing to flatter a Goa'uld.

"Chancellor Travell? What news of the Tollan?"

"The attack by Anubis' forces destroyed our only shipyard, and one of a very few ships that we have in our fleet. The remaining ships have been pulled back to New Tollana, and construction is commencing on a new shipyard. We regret that until this shipyard is completed, we will not be able to offer construction facilities to the Alliance."

"Yes, that is unfortunate. However, at the Second Battle for Langara, Alliance forces captured a number of Cylon _Basestar_s. We are in the process of separating the hulls and refitting them to Alliance standards. Though it will not take the place of your shipyards, perhaps you can adapt it to that purpose? In any case, the new station will give you a large amount of protection, and will serve as a home base for six fighter squadrons."

"You have the thanks of the Tollan people, Mr. Chairman."

"Next is the Representative of Langara, Mr. Jonas Quinn."

"Good morning to you Mr. Chairman. After the attack by Anubis, the government of Langara pledged to the Alliance, five hundred pilots and one thousand ground troops. Langara has now authorized me to augment that first number. An additional five thousand ground troops will be made available to the Alliance. With help from the Tau'ri in regards to mining equipment and techniques, production of naquadria has now tripled."

"Commander Thor? Have you anything for this meeting?"

"I do. On behalf of the Asgard High Council, we wish to acknowledge our debt to the Immortal Council for the timely gift of the anti-Replicator weapon. Said weapon was hastily built and test fielded on the Asgard battleship _Daniel Jackson_. The weapon worked as promised and the Asgard are now fitting a more refined version of this weapon to all of our ships. With the information presented to us in regards to cloning technology, we have identified several techniques to reverse some of the cellular degradation that is occurring, but not all of it. It is, however, a step in a direction we had not previously pursued, and is currently being examined by several of our top scientists."

"I'm glad we could help, Thor. The Asgard have done so much for us, that we felt it necessary to repay at least some of your kindness. Hopefully, we will be able to do more in the future."

"The High Council is examining methods by which we may aid the Tau'ri even more than we are now. Hopefully, they have come to the same conclusion that I have, that you are ready to take your place as the fifth member of the original alliance."

"Uhm. That's a good thing. Ok, well, on to the next person on the agenda. Master Bra'tac, if you would please sir?"

"The Rebel Jaffa, along with myself and Teal'c, recently went to where the System Lord Ramius makes his home. We had received word that the Jaffa there wished to join our ranks and that they had access to Ramius' fleet and had offered those vessels to us, if we came through the Chappa'ai to assist them. As we approached Ramius' Palace, the Chappa'ai activated behind us and an unknown creature stepped through it. It systematically killed everything in its path. It decimated our forces, and nothing we could fire at it, seemed to effect it at all. Staff weapons, Zat blasts, even projectiles from the P-90s we have been given, failed to affect it in any way. It was eventually defeated, but only after scores of Jaffa, Rebel or otherwise, were dead."

"Were you able to retrieve the body for our scientists to examine?"

"We have. I believe that your Doctor Scully and her team have begun their examinations as of a few hours ago."

"Very good sir. As soon as her reports are ready, we will make them available to all members of the Alliance. Anything else, Master Bra'tac?"

"Not at this time, Mr. Chairman."

"Very well. The Alliance Council has been approached by representatives from Tagrea, Talthus, Cimmeria, Orban, Amra, and Caledonia. The Council has reviewed their applications for membership in the Alliance and at this time, we offer to these worlds the status of Protectorate world. We will begin sending diplomatic and scientific teams to these worlds, first to establish embassies, and then to interact with the scientific communities of those same worlds. Not all of you are ready for full membership, but we will help you to obtain that technological level so that you might fully join the Alliance.

"Now, if there is no further new business to discuss, we will recess for a short break, and then continue. The next item on the agenda will prove to be a contentious one as we determine the best method for integrating our forces into a cohesive whole."

----------------------------------------

_**Luna**_

_**Pilot Training Center**_

_**Same Time**_

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first class of our new training center. Over the course of the next few weeks we will attempt to bring you up to speed in the various one and two-man craft in use by the Alliance, and those same crafts as used by our enemies. I fully realize that all of you already have experience flying terrestrial aircraft. Those skills will come in handy, but whereas a furball on Earth might range over a few tens of kilometers, the most recent engagements we've had have shown that fighters could well end up several hundred thousand kilometers from where they first encountered the enemy. Such is the nature of flying and fighting at sub-light speeds.

"Your instructor pilots are being pulled from the ranks of current squadron and flight leaders in the Alliance. They have been tested in the crucible of space combat and come out on top. Some other instruction you will receive will be on the nature of our enemy, so that you might learn their individual weaknesses and strengths for when you face them in combat.

"Now, we're going to dim the lights a bit so the holographic projectors can have their full effect. The first fighter is the F-302 _Mustang_. It is a two seat space superiority craft capable of atmospheric flight. It can be equipped with either pulse phaser cannons or rail guns in the two wingtip stations. It also has two hard points, where, depending on the mission, we can mount six anti-fighter missiles on two triple-mount racks or two anti-capital ship missiles on single hard points.

"The next craft is the SA-310 _Thunderbolt_ _Starfury_. It is also a twin seat model, with a dual mission of fighter and bomber. It has four pulse phaser cannons mounted one per wing tip, and one nose mounted multi-barreled rail gun. It has ten hard points for anti-fighter missiles.

"Next is the SA-23 _Aurora_ _Starfury_. This is a single seat fighter, and the only fighter where the pilot rides in a standing position. Like the _Thunderbolt_, is has four pulse phaser cannons mounted one per wing tip, but unlike the nose gun of the _Thunderbolt_, the _Aurora_ has two rail guns mounted to either side of the cockpit, and eight hard points.

"The SA-43 _Hammerhead_ has been designated for space superiority missions, but since it also has directional VTOL thrusters, it can also perform CAS duties. This is a single seat craft, with one gimballed rail gun mounted beneath the nose, and a rear turret with twin pulse phaser cannons. In either role, the six hard points support triple-ejector racks for missiles or bombs.

"The final fighter is the Colonial Mk III _Cobra_ interceptor. This is a single seat fighter capable of manoeuvres that you could only dream about performing in some of the other platforms. It has two heavy fusion cannons mounted one in each wing root, and a retractable rotary launcher in the belly that can hold nine anti-fighter missiles, or eighteen micro photon torpedoes.

"The next two vessels aren't really fighters, but they can fit into that role if the need arises. The _Danube_-class heavy scout has a crew of four; pilot, navigator, engineer, and weapons specialist. It fields twin heavy pulse phaser cannons, six type VIII phaser strips, and a photon torpedo launcher in a top mounted hard point. The last vessel is the GB-1 _Peregrine_. It carries a crew of six to eight and serves as a space-borne AWACS platform, with the ability to defend itself. It has two forward firing Type VIII phaser cannons, six type VI phaser strips, eight internal hard points for micro photon torpedoes and six external hard points. The eight internal points are mounted four per wing, and the best description I could give you would be to compare the internal mounts to something that many fighters in WWII had in their wings.

"Are there any questions? Yes, you in the third row. State your name and branch if you could, and the type of aircraft you flew."

"Major Riley Hale, USAF, B-2 pilot. Nice pictures there, Chief. But I didn't see anything that could remotely be called a pure bomber."

"No pure bombers here, Major. All of the fighters I've just shown you perform multiple roles. The closest equivalent in terms of bomb capacity would be the _Al'kesh_ bomber that we have a few of in our inventory. However, as its primary mission is to deliver troops to the field, it's not really what you have in mind. It carries anywhere from five hundred to one thousand troops into battle."

"Sheesh! You don't do anything by halves, do ya!"

"The _Al'kesh_ bombers were made by the Goa'uld, not us. Let's just say that a Goa'uld's ego is a rather large thing and leave it at that. Yes, you in the fifth row."

"Colonel Reginald Stuart, USAF, A-10 pilot. When do we get started on training sir?"

"Everyone, please stand up."

The assembled pilots in the room stood at that request. Marius pressed a few buttons on his podium and the podium and all the chairs in the room vanished, to be replaced by what everyone in the room would call a hangar. In fact, the assembled crews for this first class were situated in a holographic training center, the first of its kind in the Alliance.

"Gentlemen, the miracle of holographic technology. A few seconds ago, all of you would have sworn you were in a classroom. Now you're in a hangar. We're going to get started with the F-302 _Mustang_, as this is still one of our front line fighters, and is based on the typical fighters of our Goa'uld enemy. The major difference between the _Udajeet_ fighter and the _Mustang_ is that the _Mustang_ has hard points for missiles, while the _Udajeet_ does not. Another difference is that our _Mustang_ fighter has a hyperspace window generator on it and the _Udajeet_ does not. What that means, is that if you find yourself in the middle of a massive furball, and are outnumbered, you can activate a split second jump through hyperspace. The generator eats through the naquadria fuel at a pretty steep rate, so you won't be able to get but maybe five or six one-second jumps out of it, but it will drop you at least a million klicks away from the furball. That's about twenty to thirty seconds flight time for an _Udajeet_.

"Now then, climb into your craft. You'll see a short piece of plastic-like equipment sitting on the seat. Pick it up and place it against your cheek. It will adhere itself there. That funny looking little thing is the equivalent of the standard communications gear you'll find in any aircraft on Earth. Myself and the other instructors will be flying against you in _Udajeet_ fighters."

Marius was flying as wingman to Colonel Starbuck. Teal'c and Bra'tac were ahead of them as squadron leader and wing leader, respectively. Several of the tried and tested pilots from the recent engagements were also a part of the squadron. Their mission was a simple one. The pilots they were flying against were no strangers to aerial combat, but combat in space was fairly different. It was easy for a fighter versus fighter battle to range out over several million cubic kilometers of space. It was easier to get disoriented when there was no compass to tell you which way was North. But the _Mustang_ fighters were built with all sorts of safety and guidance features. It wouldn't take long to transition this first batch of Earth trainees into the wonderful world of space based combat.

"Instructor Ramos?"

"Pilot Stuart?"

"What makes you qualified to teach us in these fighters?"

"Actually, I probably have less time in these fighters than the rest of the instructor pilots. However, the fact that I'm a founding member of the Aerial Assassins Club probably had something to do with it. Forty air-to-air kills in WWI, ninety-three in WWII. Missed out on Korea, cause the Air Force had me designing better combat systems. Tested a few of those systems in Vietnam and came back with less than a dozen kills. That ok for you Stuart?"

"Yeah. I think that'll be ok, sir."

They were in a holographic environment, but you'd have a hard time convincing the pilots of that fact. The trainee pilots came at the instructors hard and fast, as they'd been taught, taking the fight into the vertical, but in space that mattered little, as they all too quickly realized that chasing a target into the vertical in space meant a very long chase. On Earth or on any planet, taking the fight into the vertical meant that eventually, gravity would force the hand of one pilot or the other. In space, gravity wasn't a factor. After a few hours of this, the instructors called for an end. They made their approach to the landing field in a standard combat formation, peeling off at the last second to land in pairs. When all were on the 'ground', Marius terminated the hangar environment and all of them found themselves once again in a classroom.

"Well, now you've gotten a bit of a feel for the tactics the Jaffa will use against you. Get some rest. At oh-eight-hundred tomorrow, Colonel Starbuck will take you through the basics of flight in a _Viper_ and teach you all about our Cylon enemy. Major Riley. Colonel Stuart. Please stay for a bit. The rest of you are dismissed for the day."

"Would you gentlemen care for a drink?"

"Beer if you have it, sir."

"Beer it is. Colonel, your former CO speaks rather highly of you. I'd like to offer you a choice if you want it. You can either continue the training as planned, or you can skip right to taking command of a new unit that's being formed. A dedicated Close Air Support unit. You interested?"

"So you're moving me straight to the _Hammerhead_?"

"Yes. There is one other aspect to the CAS unit though. In addition to the _Hammerhead_ squadrons you're going to take over, you'll also have to worry about the VTOL jets and helos that are now based on the big ships in the fleet. You don't have to give an answer today. Just think about it."

"I'll do it, sir."

"You're sure?"

"You bet, sir!"

----------------------------------------

_**Tartarus**_

"My Lord, the Cylons report ready. Their six ships are ready to depart for Tau'ri space."

"Order them to go. Send six more ships each to Tollana and to Langara. Those worlds will be mine and their inhabitants will bow before me, or I will destroy them all!"

"As you wish, My Lord."

----------------------------------------

_**New Tollana Station**_

_**Command Center**_

"…engineering, we need extra power on the outer defenses…"

"…sensors showing all clear out to three light minutes…

"…great…we got the weapons shipment but no planes yet…"

"…command, we're showing a fault disconnect on three defense sats…"

"…_Castor_, do you have any extra power couplings?…

----------------------------------------

_**New Langara Station**_

_**Command Center**_

"…engineering, why are we still on emergency power?…"

"…sensor acuity down to mush…"

"…my Mama told me there'd be days like this…"

"…alright, who's the bird brain that ordered gravity bombs?…"

"…command, we're showing good connectivity to all defense sats…"

"…what do you mean the plumbing is backed up?…"

"…command, we're showing a fault feed light on the port launcher array…"

"…_Pollux_, where are those extra fighters?…"

----------------------------------------

_**Independence Station**_

_**Command Center**_

"…Tom, get someone from engineering to look at that power reading…"

"…_Daedalus_, we show you clear of station and you are free to proceed…"

"…_Raleigh_, check your turn…"

"…sensors show nothing out to six light minutes…"

"…so Mars and Luna have the DefSats, but Earth doesn't? Why not?…"

"…message from Langara…someone shipped gravity bombs?…"

"…gravity bombs…me thinks that supply chief is on drugs…"

"…no pilot…you're other right!…"

----------------------------------------

_**Luna**_

_**Command Center**_

"…defense grid shows green across the board…"

"…command, we're showing a power spike over Beaumont Crater…"

"…I have no idea why they were shipped gravity bombs…"

"…power center, we've got an inbound waste shipment for you…"

"…oh joy…more trash…"

"…Sheridan to docking control…where do you want me?…"

"…please Jake…not over an open channel!…"

"…command, sensors…we're showing a small spike in quadrant 6…"

----------------------------------------

_**Luna**_

_**Pilot Training Center**_

"…so you see, the _Viper_ is unique among the fighters in that it can fly backwards and get behind an enemy that was behind you…"

"…with the aft turret in auto-engage mode, anyone getting on your Six is in for a surprise…"

"…pulse phase cannons deliver a lot of firepower against enemy fighters, but are like mosquito bites to a bigger ship…"

"…use the anti-ship missiles to bring down the enemy's shields so the big boys can take them out…"

----------------------------------------

_**Luna**_

_**GroPo Training Center**_

"…your mission is not to hold ground, but to kill the enemy…"

"…our engagements have shown that the Cylons move in large box like formations…"

"…a well placed grenade will do a lot of damage to the Cylons…"

"…don't be afraid to call in an artillery strike…"

"…remember, incoming fire has the right of way…"

"…you can never have too much ammunition in a firefight…"

"…Recruit Lehayne reporting for training, as ordered…"

"…you're a small one aren't you…"

"…smaller is better…"

----------------------------------------

_**Independence Station**_

_**Mars-Luna-Earth**_

_**Joint Command Center**_

"So, we've agreed to follow the USN model for battle group compositions?"

"Yes. It may not be the perfect model, but it does offer a point of reference since the majority of our personnel are coming from the Earth forces.

"Very well, Admiral Constantine. Let's start with battle group one."

"As you say General Hammond. After looking over the lists of ships at our disposal, we have enough to create four small…ish battle groups. Battle Group One will be centered around the _Halsey_. She will have four _Shark_-class missile destroyers, four _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers, four _Olympus_-class corvettes, two _Shield_-class flak frigates, two _Jeep_-class light carriers, and one _Nightingale_-class fleet tender. Battle Group Two will be centered about the carrier _John F. Kennedy_, with much the same makeup as BG1 except instead of four _Olympus_ corvettes, BG2 will get four _Whitestar_ frigates. BG3 will be the carrier _Kuznetsov_. She'll get four _Hyperion_s instead of _Prometheus_', four _Defiant_s instead of four _Olympus_', and two _Whitestar_s in place of the two _Shields_. BG4 will be built around the _Spruance_. She'll get four each of the _Prometheus_ and _Defiant_ class, two each of the _Nova_, _Shield_, and _Jeep_ classes, and one _Nightingale_ tender."

"What about Mars' contribution?"

"We'd like to hold those in reserve for system defense. The Battlestars _Galactica_, _Daedalus_, and _Caprica_ will take up station keeping orbits over Mars, Luna, and Earth. At least for the time being. The truth is sirs, that we just can't build our escort ships fast enough. Even with the replicator farms going at full bore. What we on the Immortal Council would like to see from our Colonial brethren, are strike groups of Battlestars, at least three in size, with a suitable number of escorts, for deep strike missions."

"That is agreeable to us. The truth is, while we have enough personnel to man two of our Battlestars, thus the _Caprica_ is for the moment woefully understaffed. Until such time as the Fleet Training Academy on Luna can begin to turn out large numbers of trained personnel, we will always be at this stage."

"The first classes are underway even as we speak. It is simply a matter of time before we have a formidable fleet. We have the ships, true, but we lack the personnel to accomplish our mission at present."

"Who do we want at the head of these Battle Groups?"

"Admiral Constantine, President Ryan is asking that Admiral Bart Mancuso be appointed as one of the task force commanders."

"The Colonial Quorum requests that Colonel Athena be made a task force commander, along with Colonel Sheba."

"After much thought, the Immortal Council will offer command of a battle group to Robert, Baron de Valicourt."

"Airman de Valicourt? Why him?"

"Because, General Hammond, once upon a time Robert was a captain of a pirate vessel. His tactics may be old, but the Council doubts that those tactics have gone out of style."

"Fair enough."

----------------------------------------

_**Three days later**_

_**Independence Station**_

Smythson had gone from Sensor Operator Second class on the third shift, to SensOp on first watch, and with that had also gotten a promotion to Petty Officer in charge of the long range sensor section. With the LIDAR array in good operational order, they now had a medium resolution out to five light minutes, fine resolution at two light minutes, and very coarse resolution out to nine light minutes. At that extreme range, all they could tell from the sensory imagery was that something was coming in. It would be up to the IFF transponders set up around the approaches to the system that would tell if someone was friendly or not.

It happened almost simultaneously at three very separate watch stations. Long range LIDAR was picking up incoming ships. Big ships. Very big ships. Smythson knew that all ships in the Alliance fleets, save two, were presently in system. He knew also, that the ships on LIDAR had no IFF signature. He wasted no time in pressing the alert button on his console.

Alert klaxons began blaring their warnings in the Lunar Command Center, the SGC on Earth, the Colonial Operations Center on Mars, and in the Joint Command Center on the Indy. Sensor information was quickly passed along the various chains of command centers so that everyone was now tied into the system.

As the targets grew closer to the Sol system, the scanner resolution improved. Word spread quickly of six Cylon _Basestar_s coming in. Battle Groups One and Two would spread out in the inner system, with Groups Three and Four making quick jumps into Hyperspace to stand by as possible reinforcements. The incoming hostiles were one light minute out when word came from Langara and Tollana of new attacks there. Group Three sped out at maximum speed for Tollana, with Group Four going at full burn for Langara. The battleships _Castor_ and _Pollux_ were screaming for help.

----------------------------------------

_**Tollana**_

_**Second Battle of Tollana**_

_Castor_ screamed for help the moment the Cylon _Basestar_s appeared on LIDAR. One Cylon _Basestar_ would be a match to the _Castor_, but six? _Castor_ screamed for help as loud as they could and as long as they could until Cylon jamming made that impossible.

"What's the database say on the fighter strength?"

"Three hundred fighters per _Basestar_, sir."

"Comms, open a channel to Tollana Station and to the Curia."

"Channel open, sir."

"Tollana Station, this is Commander Jameson aboard the _Castor_. Be advised we show six Cylon _Basestar_s incoming at this time. Recommend you evacuate all non-essential personnel to your shelters. Be advised, that we have sent a sub-space message to Alliance Command. We don't know if the message got through before the Cylons commenced jamming. Curia, launch your fighters, but keep them in a CAP over the city. Any enemy fighters that get by us will have to be taken care of by your fighters. Recommend you activate the defense grid. We are going weapons free at this time and are moving up to engage the enemy at maximum range. Godspeed. _Castor_ out."

On Tollana Station the chaos was barely controlled.

"Weps, get those targeting sensors up now! _Castor_ won't be able to hold against eighteen hundred fighters for long! Full power to all shield systems! Bring all flak turrets online!"

_----------------------------------------_

_**Castor**_

"Helm, bring us around to give them a broadside. All gunnery stations, fire as they come to bear!"

----------------------------------------

_**Langara Station**_

_**Third Battle of Langara**_

_Pollux_ was also screaming loudly, though ineffectively. The LIDAR didn't pick up the incoming Cylon _Basestar_s until those same ships were in the system and jamming all communications frequencies. It fell to Jonas Quinn on the surface of Langara to send a message via the Stargate to the SGC to notify them of the attack. Though the station was fully manned, and though all her weapons systems were fully active, the station had not yet received its compliment of fighters. It would be up to the point defense systems on both the station and on the _Pollux_, to stop the eighteen hundred fighters that were inbound.

"Helm, give 'em our broadside. All guns, fire as they come to bear!"

_Pollux_ moved away from the station, placing itself between the station and the incoming fighters. As the distance closed, the men and women aboard the _Pollux_ made their peace with their respective Gods.

It began all at once. All guns on the port side of the _Pollux_ fired at one time. The large massive guns firing long bursts from the Vorlon cannons, cutting wide swaths in the incoming waves of fighters. The point defense rail guns and pulse phaser turrets firing continuously. Where phased light met Cylon armor, the armor disappeared. Where the explosive tipped rail gun rounds met Cylon _Raider_, the fighter vanished in a burst of expanding gas and matter.

Behind the incoming fighters, the six enemy motherships approached in a classic wedge. As each ship entered extreme weapons range, it fired its twin mega-pulsar cannons at the _Pollux_. At extreme range, the Cylons were doing nothing more than illuminating space around the battleship, nicely bracketing the ship. As the distance closed, however, the pulsar beams came closer and closer to hitting the vessel.

"Weps, give 'em a broadside. All guns and tubes!"

Space around the _Pollux_ seemed to glow for a few seconds as all six heavy gun turrets fired at once, and sixteen tubes belched out sixteen QSG Shipwreck missiles; all of them targeted on one ship. It was overkill, pure and simple, but necessary. The twin mega-pulsar cannons of the Cylon _Basestar_ could eviscerate the _Pollux_ with a direct hit. In the distance, the beams of the Vorlon Cannons met at the same point on the target and cut through the target like a scythe. Space lit up yet again, but this time it resembled the supernova explosion of a star. With the primary target now gone, the Shipwrecks turned to their IFF modules for a target. Their systems identified non-friendly targets to either side of the previous target location, and the group of missiles split into two groups, each one locked onto a _Basestar_. And when those had expended their short and brief lives, there were three _Basestar_s left. Unfortunately for the _Pollux_, the intense wash of radiation that was the site of three tremendous explosions blinded their sensors long enough for the remaining three ships to close to almost point-blank range. Six mega-pulsars fired. Six beams. Six coordinated beams. Beams that struck true on the _Pollux_.

Those personnel aboard Langara Station saw empty space where there had been an Alliance battleship. Their faces grim, they turned once more to the task of defending their world.

----------------------------------------

_**New Tollana Station**_

The _Castor_ fared a little better than its sister ship, taking out four of the massive _Basestar_s before a direct hit from a mega-pulsar beam cut it in two. The fighters based aboard New Tollana Station had made a good accounting of themselves, trading one of their own comrades for twelve or more of the enemy. The combined forces in system, those remaining fighters from the _Castor_ and the station, and the previous fire from the _Castor_ and the station, had taken out more than fifteen hundred fighters in the opening minutes of the battle. But now there were too few fighters to make a difference. The flak turrets on the station and the defense grid over the planet were all that stood between the planet and the still advancing two Cylon ships.

"Weps, activate the defense grid. Tell the remaining fighters to head for New Tollana City."

"Aye sir."

The Global Orbital Defense satellites had been the result of a technology trade between the Alliance and Babylon 5. Now they would defend a planet against two massive Cylon ships. Each satellite had one heavy pulse disruptor beam, three type XII phaser cannons, two pulse phaser turrets, and eighty anti-matter missiles mounted in two sections of forty on either side of the main guns. The whole unit was powered by a single naquadah generator. A slightly larger fusion generator was also aboard the GOD platform and all it powered was the single shield that surrounded the platform.

The defense satellites were arrayed in layers in multiple orbits around Tollana, so not all of them would fire at one time. Ten satellites would add their fire to that coming from the station. Missiles tipped with anti-matter warheads spat out of the nearest satellites to the incoming ships. The fire was heavy and thick from the Cylon ships and more than two-thirds of the missiles were intercepted before they could find a target. The remaining third made small but significant impacts on the two capital ships. Not enough to stop them, but just enough to hold them at bay.

The Cylon pulsar guns began firing again, this time the targets were the GOD satellites in orbit. One by one, the satellites fell to the massively powerful beams. The ones that remained were on the far side of the planet and would be of no use in this particular battle. The big guns switched targets, from the satellites, to the station.

Where Cylon pulsar beam met station armor, sections of armor vanished into the vacuum of space. The station was fully automatic now, as all of her crew had evacuated to the surface, to prepare the defenses there.

----------------------------------------

_**Earth**_

_**Independence Station**_

_**First Battle of Sol**_

It was the _Shark-_class destroyer escorts (missile) that took the first shots in the battle. They fired the few photon torpedoes that the Alliance had managed to build. But their unerring accuracy in dodging incoming interceptor fire made the difference in the opening moves. The missile frigate _Bull Shark_ let fly with all fifteen of her photon torpedoes and they flew straight and true to their targets. _Thresher Shark_, to one side of the _Bull Shark_, had done the same. Their torpedoes impacted the targets and in the space of less then five minutes, two Cylon _Basestar_s had been eliminated before they had managed to launch a single fighter. Four more were still incoming, however.

Battle Group One moved to the right, while Group Two moved to the left, leaving the Battlestar _Caprica_ in the middle, with four _Shield_-class frigates borrowed from the two battle groups to add to her anti-fighter coverage.

For the Cylons, seeing a Battlestar moving to intercept them was old news. This was the type of enemy they had fought against for countless yahrens. They could not know, had not yet realized, that the _Caprica_ was the first of a new generation of Battlestars, one that took full advantage of the new technologies of the Tau'ri, and of the Ancients. The first new item that surprised the Cylons were the heavy duty shields of the _Caprica_, when twin mega-pulsar blasts failed to do anything but illuminate the shield bubble around the ship. The second surprise came when twin beams of Shadow-enhanced Slicer beam lashed out and eviscerated the upper hull of a _Basestar_, cutting through the four meters of heavy armor with ease. Another surprise came when rather than fire off only two anti-ship missiles, the _Caprica_ launched a dozen of the big capital ship killers pulverizing the Basestar which had so recently had it's hull perforated by the Slicer beams.

The three remaining _Basestar_s were more cautious in their approach, making micro-jumps at light speed to close the distance to something approaching point blank. These three ships were able to launch their fighters all at once, and a wall of nine hundred fighters quickly raced past the _Caprica_ and headed for Earth, where a much smaller wall of fighters was waiting for them. And just as the Cylon ships thought that the newer Colonial vessel could surprise them no more, the _Caprica_ revealed one final trick. Four Vorlon heavy cannons had been hastily added to the vessel in the weeks before this attack. Two had replaced the heavy laser cannons that the _Caprica_ and all Battlestars before her had been equipped with. Two more were added, one each ventral and dorsal, near the nose of the ship. Each one alone could swat a _Ha'tak_ class vessel from space, but the four beams could be fired at an angle that met on a large focusing crystal carried in a chamber at the very tip of the bow. The crystal focused the four independent beams into one beam of massive power. The quadri-focused beam fired and where it met a _Basestar_, said _Basestar_ vanished from space. The sheer power and heat energy of the beam was such that anything that stood in its way became as one with the universe.

Of course, the major limitations of the quadri-focused beam were that it could only fire forward, and using it against a target like a fighter was a pointless waste of energy. The energy requirements were such that the beam could only be fired every other minute as it took the generators that long to rebuild the power needed to fire all four beams at once, but it could fire two beams every sixty seconds. Thus while the ventral and dorsal pair were charging, the port and starboard pair could fire. The heavy Vorlon cannons were the primary anti-capital ship weapon of the Alliance, and it was one they were more than willing to use against any enemy of the Alliance.

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_**Independence Station**_

_**Combat Information Center**_

"…Red 6, you got a pair of bogeys on your tail…"

"…Fox 3!…"

"…Lunar Command, be advised we show a dozen fighters headed your way…"

"…Affirmative _Indy_…our defense grid will take care of them…"

"…Incoming!…"

"…Multiple incoming vessels…IFFs read as friendly…"

"_Independence_ Station. This is the _Pride of the Emperor_, First Prime Oshu commanding. We have activated our transponders as per our agreement."

"Good work there, _Pride_. We've got some uninvited guests here. Stand by while we pass along targeting data."

The fleet assets promised by the Goa'uld had finally arrived. A fleet numbering close to six hundred ships; _Ha'tak_s, _Al'kesh_, and _Rel'tac_ troop transports. They arrived in time to witness the destruction of the fifth Cylon ship at the hands of the _Caprica_. The sheer destructive power of the primary guns left Lord Yu, in his throne behind his First Prime, shaking with unmitigated terror.

"Oshu! What is the power rating of that weapon?"

"Unknown, my Lord. I regret to inform my Lord, that our sensors are not calibrated that high. The highest point on our scales is a force of five times our main cannon output.

"We must find this out! Such a weapon, if it were to fall into the hands of our enemies, would be devastating!"

"Indeed, my Lord. We are receiving targeting data now, my Lord. I am ordering our fighters to assist the Tau'ri fighters in defense of their world."

The view screen on the _Ha'tak_ lit up, but not as brightly, as a pair of smaller Tau'ri vessels fired from point blank range into the remaining Cylon ship. This other type of beam weapon was an unknown type to the Goa'uld, and the various major and minor Goa'uld in the fleet, along with their First Primes, were startled to realize that the energy beam drained the targeted ship of all energy, rendering it a lifeless hulk, adrift in space.

"My Lord, there is heavy transport activity emanating from those two smaller Tau'ri craft. I believe they are transporting over to the Cylon ship."

"What sort of weapon did they use on it?"

"Unknown, my Lord, but it appears to have drained the vessel of all energy. As the Cylons are mechanical in nature, it would have rendered them lifeless."

"Most intriguing, is it not Oshu?"

"Indeed, my Lord. It is quite intriguing."

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_**Earth**_

"_All units, this is NORAD control. Be advised that a number of enemy fighters have broken through the defensive lines in space and are making approaches to the planet. All units, you are weapons free at this time._"

When news of the incoming fighters had been passed along to the various world governments, they had taken the only action they could take. Alert levels went up to war time footings, and from air fields around the globe, flights of fighters rose up to await the enemy. More than two hundred enemy fighters had broken through the lines in space to make strafing runs on the planet. Standing in their way were several thousand frontline fighters and interceptors from various nations, all of them with one goal in mind, to defend their country as best as was possible.

"…Gunfighter 6, Black Knight's are on your left and anxious to party…"

"…good to have you Black Knights…"

Downward they came through the atmosphere, their hulls glowing slightly from the friction of the passage through the upper atmosphere. At a distance of nearly two hundred kilometers, the F-14 Tomcats in the ranks of fighters over the US each locked on to four targets descending towards them. When the distance closed to one hundred and fifty kilometers, the calls of 'Fox 3!' sounded loud and clear over the airwaves, as an uncountable multitude of AIM-54 Phoenix missiles were launched at the enemy fighters. Two hundred fighters had come down to the US, with the single minded mission of causing as much chaos and destruction to the mountain complex that housed the SGC.

But because it was such an important facility, ranked perhaps among the top ten most important military installations on Earth, the facility had received its own set of force fields and Surface to Air missile emplacements. The fighters diving down towards the mountain got a surprise in the face when rail gun emplacements began firing at them, pumping out thousands of rounds every second, creating a veritable wall of lead in front of the enemy fighters.

Trapped between angry defensive fighters behind them and withering fire from the ground, the enemy ships elected to spread out along an altitude just above the flak from the ground, dropping their charges from a higher altitude than planned.

The fighting in the air closed to knife distance, and new calls of 'Fox1!' and 'Fox2!' filled the air as AIM-7 Sparrows and AIM-9 Sidewinders filled the skies over Colorado Springs. Eventually, calls of 'Eject, Eject, Eject!' and 'Mayday!' added to the chatter over the air waves. After what felt like an eternity to the surviving pilots, many looked down into their cockpits to see that they were dangerously low of fuel.

"Petersen Tower, Gunfighter 6. Requesting priority approach. Bingo fuel."

"Take a number, Gunfighter 6. Pretty much everyone is Bingo at the moment. Switch to GUARD frequency for hand off to civilian controllers. You'll be landing at the first field available."

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_**Earth Space**_

In the space near Earth, the fighting was done for the moment. Shuttles flitted here and there, beaming aboard surviving crews to the waiting arms of overworked medics. The attrition rate had been high for the newly trained pilots coming up from Earth militaries. It had been less so for those pilots who were veterans.

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_**One Day Later**_

_**UN General Assembly**_

The thoughts on the minds of everyone present ranged from sheer outrage to sheer disbelief. So many changes in past months that many were still being briefed on the implications of those changes. For certain, a great number of military and strategic consultants had suddenly found themselves overwhelmed with work as nearly every nation on the planet sought their expertise. But the debate today, or rather outrage today, was not so much about technologies and their distribution to the nations of the world, but rather at the lack of defense that their world had in the previous day's battle.

"The Chair recognizes the honorable representative from Saudi Arabia."

"I thank you Mr. Chairman. The Kingdom easily defended itself in yesterday's battles, but that was only because no enemy fighters came within our airspace. I am told the Americans lost many squadrons of planes to the enemy, but thankfully, there was little loss of life. Some months ago, this assembly was asked if we wished to install as a planetary body, the defense satellites offered to us by the Alliance, and we said no. At this time I wish to ask if this offer is still available?"

"Mr. Chairman, as duly authorized representative of the Alliance, I can state that yes, such an offer is still on the table. Had the defense satellites been in orbit yesterday, there would have been far fewer enemy fighters entering our airspace. The constellations of defense satellites over Colonial Mars, and Immortal Luna, stopped all enemy fighters before they could get in range to drop their payloads on the surfaces of those worlds. We have just a few hours ago received information that similar constellations of satellites around two of our member worlds blocked large numbers of fighters from attacking their surfaces. Unfortunately, several hundred fighters got through those lines of satellites, and Langara and Tollana took heavy damage.

"For the moment, the Alliance Council voted to leave Battle Groups Three and Four in Langaran and Tollan space. This leaves us with two full battle groups for home defense, along with the newly arrived group from the Goa'uld Hegemony. The Alliance shipyards are endeavoring to produce as many fighters as possible to supplement the Earth forces, but we are in dire need of qualified pilots. We have asked before, and we have received squadrons of pilots from the five permanent members of the Security Council, but today, I am authorized by the Alliance to ask for qualified pilots from all member nations of the UN."

"Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman! If I may, please!"

"The Chair recognizes the honorable representative from Iran."

"Unlike my colleague from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, I do not trust the Westerners. How can we install such a Sword of Damocles over our own heads and not be fearful of the system being turned on us? Moreover, if we do provide our best pilots to the Alliance, how can we not be in fear that not everyone will do so, and therein would another nation state seize the opportunity to invade a nation state that provided pilots?"

"Admiral Constantine, do you have an answer for these questions?"

"I do Mr. Chairman. I wish to state for the official record that the defensive satellite constellations work in two directions. They will protect the planet from threats in space, and they will protect nations on the planet from attack by another nation. That is, if one nation launches ballistic missiles at another nation, the satellites in orbit will target those weapons and destroy them. The nations of the world can keep their ballistic launchers if they so desire, but the defense satellite network will destroy any such weapons launched. What we would propose is that a joint command facility be established in orbit. Said facility will have control of the defense satellite constellations around Earth, along with control of a number of ground to space intercept squadrons.

"The space-based squadrons for the moment are located on the space station _Independence_, and two _Prometheus_-class battlecruisers are generally on detached duty with the station. The two ships are our system patrol, and once per day, they sweep the outer planets of the system, searching for threats.

"To answer the second question by the representative from Iran, we can not control the wants and desires of other nations. It could be possible that if you lend us your best pilots, that doing so might leave you unprotected, but the Council has authorized me to make the following offer. Any nation state that offers us one squadron worth of pilots, will have one squadron of ground to space interceptors based in their country, under the control of the Joint Forces Command Station. The squadron might come from a western country, or it might come from an Alliance member world. Tell me, Mr. Ambassador, how would your countrymen feel about having a wing detachment in your country from the United States? Or a wing detachment from the Alliance?"

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_**Luna**_

_**Same Time**_

The losses to Alliance ships and personnel had been harsh. The _Pollux_ and _Castor_ had been destroyed, with only a few life pods picked up in the aftermath of the battle. Battle Group Three had now taken up a semi-permanent residence in the Tollana system. Her sister group, number Four was doing the same in the Langara system. Anubis definitely wanted those two systems for a number of reasons, but the Tollan phase shifting technology, and the naquadria deposits on Langara were at the top of the probable list.

Two battleships, the _Taurus_ and _Orion_, were taking on replacement fighters for the stations at Langara and Tollana, to replace those lost in battle. The ships were presently swarmed with cargo pods as they also took on emergency supplies bound for those two worlds. A small cadre of officers, taken from the various naval services of Earth, had gone through an abbreviated training class, just to familiarize them with the new systems aboard Alliance vessels. The class had gone through the Lunar Academy in only two short weeks, certainly not enough time to learn everything, but those new command crews would have some veteran members within them, members from the _Halsey_ strike group that had spent close on four years in space in various dimensional travels. But there were other matters for which there was no easy solution.

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_**Office of the Immortal President**_

"Mr. Sheridan, I've been reading your Chronicle."

"Oh, geez. What's it say in there?"

"For the relatively short lifespan you've had, having become an Immortal in 1865, you've led an interesting life. Law enforcement interspersed with terms of military service. What was the highest rank you ever achieved?"

"During the Civil War, sir. I was a cavalry man. Started out with RIP Ford, as a sergeant. By the end of the war, or my end of it, I'd gotten a couple battlefield promotions to Captain serving with the 14th Texas Cavalry under Ector. In the first World War, I was a corporal in the infantry. In the Second, I was with the Rangers. Started off with the 1st Battalion. Cisterna. Hell of a mess, that one. The 1st and the 3rd were pretty much captured intact. Six of us managed to escape and evade and made it back to our lines. Remind me to show you all those pretty medals the military has given me over the years. After I got out of that mess, I got transferred to the 2nd Ranger Battalion just in time for the landings at Normandy, and later in the Ardennes.

"I stayed in the Army after that war, with the 82nd Airborne Division. When war in Korea broke out, I was among those volunteers for new Ranger companies. Saw action in Korea. Went back to a life of law enforcement until some yokel decided he didn't want to go to jail. I 'died' in the line of duty in 1963. Joined up with the army again, eventually getting a post to a unit I'd served in a century before. 7th Cavalry. Ia Drang, and that's all I want to say about that one. Later on, while I was with the Texas Rangers again, my reserve unit got called up, and I went in with the Rangers during Desert Storm."

"A very colorful history, more so than most Immortals for the 20th century. I was also in uniform for a large part of that century. Army Air Force in the Second. Air Force ever since. Well in any case, I've a reason for this trip through history."

"I kinda got that feeling, sir."

"Now that we seem to have a short lull in the fighting, what we want to do is form a new unit. The good thing is that we have brought a couple new shipyards online, and our new manufacturing centers, and mining colonies are getting up to speed. As long as we can protect those, the Alliance will stay in a good position. Normally, we would have counted on support from the Tok'ra in this case, but after the attack on the Tok'ra base at Risa, well, there aren't many of them left. Certainly not enough to do what we need. Those who are left have joined the Alliance Intelligence Agency."

"So now they're Krycek's problem?"

"I'm sure he loves us for that one. Which goes back to our problem. What the Alliance needs is a number of strike teams. The SGC has two of them, made up of Immortals, for that purpose. But what the Alliance Council would like is to have strike teams that can deploy anywhere, any time, and with as little notice as possible."

"So you want me to join a strike team?"

"Something like that. What I want, and based on your Chronicle I think you're up to the task, is to put together the strike teams and to lead the unit."

"Lead a strike team?"

"That too. You'll have command of one team, and overall command of all of the teams. Interested?"

"That's a tall order, Mr. President."

"Indeed. Interested?"

"Do I get full control over the selection process? Full control over the type of ships we get to use to aid in deployment?"

"Selection process yes. Ships? Did you have something in mind?"

"Let me think on that. I think I'll go over to the training academy to talk to some of the DI's. Is there anything else, sir?"

"Not for the moment."

"Thank you sir, for this opportunity."

"You're more than welcome. Stop by the Quartermaster's section for a uniform before you go over to the Academy. It might make things easier for recruiting purposes."

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_**Lunar Training Academy**_

If one discounted the fact that the landscape outside the dome walls were an unmitigated gray, then one could easily believe that they were in any military academy on Earth. But Earth military academies didn't have selectable gravity areas. They didn't have Klingons and Immortals as Drill Instructors. And sure as hell, they didn't have that many different types of humans and aliens in a class.

Jake was watching one of the classes go through a combat drill. It looked like a variation on 'Capture the Flag', and it seemed to have a purpose. A defender team and an aggressor team. Each vying for control of one central hilltop. As he looked over the exercise, Jake realized that there were a lot of things he would have done differently. But as he'd learned so well during his time in Green, opinions were like assholes in that everyone had one. He made his way down to where the DI's for this drill were watching over their charges.

"Morning Sergeant."

"Sir! Morning, sir. What can I do for you sir?"

"I've got some marching orders direct from President Ramos. I'm gonna need your help, and the help of all the other instructors here to carry out those orders."

"Oh?"

"The Alliance wants to field strike teams for deep penetration raids, for scouting missions, hell, pretty much anything. What I need are qualified candidates for those teams."

"You got any field experience sir?"

"I've been a grunt all my life, Sergeant. From the Civil War with the 14th Texas Cavalry, to Desert Storm with the 2nd Rangers."

"Immortal, sir?"

"Yep. Fairly recent one at that. Less than two hundred years of life. One hundred and seventy-five come this June, to be exact."

"What size team are you thinking on sir?"

"Seven to ten. A medic, couple of snipers, light gunners, and heavy gunners."

"That's seven."

"One pilot, two drivers."

"That's ten. What kind of vehicles sir?"

"Well, I haven't really looked yet. Something small that we can deploy from a ship like the _Danube_."

"Well, sir, I used to be an instructor for the SEALs. They use a Desert Patrol Vehicle, which can hold oh, maybe four or five troopers apiece, including the driver."

"Yeah? Is it armored?"

"Hell no. Company out in California makes them. They're heavily modified off-road race cars. The SEALs use them in pairs; one with a fifty cal, the other with a Mk19."

"Sounds like just the ticket. Have you seen the new sniper rifle the Army is testing, the M109?"

"Sweet little thing, sir. The M107 fires a fifty caliber round, but the 109 is a 1-inch projectile. High explosive air bursting, flash bang, thermobaric, or armor piercing. The one I saw demonstrated was accurate out to two thousand meters. I'd love to see what those armor piercing rounds do to those tin-can Cylons."

"So would I. So, you got some personnel recommendations for me?"

"Off the top of my head, yeah. We got a German infantry man. Sniper guy. Lethal with the fifty. He's a staff sergeant by name of Hans Dieter."

"Only need one sniper. I'm the other one. Who else?"

"Got one medic in the current class. She's pretty darn lethal with the FN-P90 too. She's a PO Third. Charlotte Masters. Ian McShane and John Ayres are downright lethal with the big guns. Both of them like the M240, though both are also damned good with the Mk79 grenade launchers. Both are British sergeants."

"Anyone else?"

"Got two more for ya. Top of their class in light gunnery so far. Gunnery Sergeant Jose Rivera, USMC, and a non rated woman, Faith Lehayne. She came to us by way of the California Penal System."

"Ex-con? What was she in for?"

"The way I heard tell, sir, was something like six murders. Bare handed."

"Holy Shit!"

"Amen to that sir. She's a small thing, but oh man can she pack a punch. She's a street fighter, pure and simple, though it does look like she got some form of martial arts training somewhere along the line."

"Ok. Sounds like a good start, but we're gonna need more. Pick them."

----------------------------------------

_**Few Days Later**_

_**Office of the President**_

"General Sheridan. Find anything you like?"

"Yes sir. Picked my premier team sir."

"Ok, Sheridan. At least in here, you can call me Marius. Cut the sir crap."

"Yes sir, uhm, Marius."

"Better. So you've got your team picked out?"

"Seven members, including myself. Now, about those ships?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm no engineer, well at least not a modern one. But I think the _Danube_-class will do nicely, provided we can stretch it out some. We'd need to have room for nine total plus the pilot. Room enough for all of our gear and then some. And room for two Desert Patrol Vehicles. Side by side, would be my guess."

"Ok. We can stretch the _Danube_ some to accommodate all that. Anything else?"

"Well, in a more longer term light, I'd say maybe the _Saber_-class. Depending on what size the _Danube_ ends up being after the modifications, I'd like to see the _Saber_ carry up to four _Danube_ Scouts. But still, that will only give you a strike team size of maybe forty personnel. Certainly not enough to take a planet. So maybe like the _Halsey_ has docking ports for the battlecruisers, the IDB can design a carrier for the _Sabers_? Say, something that can dock maybe six or eight at a time? With six _Sabers_ docked, and with say, four ten-man strike teams per _Saber_, that would give us a ground force of two hundred and forty. Eight _Sabers_ gives us a strike force of three-twenty. Maybe if the carrier itself carried more _Danube_ scouts, say twice what the _Sabers_ already had aboard, then we could field a large force. Ideally, I'd say a force of about seven hundred to one thousand, but if pressed then the three-twenty number would be the lower limit."

"I'll get the IDB working on the whole package. When you have your first four teams together, I have a strike mission for you."

"A couple weeks sir. I'll need at least that."

"Done. Now, get back to work, Sheridan."

"Yes sir!"

----------------------------------------

_**Langara**_

_**New Langara Station**_

The newest battleship to come out of the Luna Shipyards, the _Orion_, had arrived in system only an hour before, and had taken up station next to the orbital facility. _Orion_ was still transferring off excess cargo to the station along with its replacement fighters. Battle Group Four, centered around the _Spruance_ was in system and her escorts were busily repairing or replacing the numerous defense satellites and long range surveillance birds that had been crippled or outright destroyed in the most recent engagement.

As much chaos as there was in orbit over Langara, it paled by comparison to that on the planet. The capital city of Kelowna had been bombed from orbit, before the final two Cylon motherships could be destroyed. Loss of life was heavy and there were many thousands of Langarans trapped in the rubble of the city. Fortunately, only the one city had been hit, and that had been because it was where the Stargate was located. Rescue workers were combing through the wreckage looking for survivors, and makeshift field hospitals had been setup by the dedicated medical crews of the 4th Battle Group. Langara would be ill-prepared to face another attack for any time soon.

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_**Tollana**_

_**New Tollana Station**_

The 3rd Battle Group was in system and making what repairs it could to the station and to the defense satellite network. _Taurus_ had arrived and was being put through its paces in system. The Tollan weren't one to show strong emotions, but in this case, with the loss of so many in the defense of their world, they were showing it. The Cylon _Basestar_ had managed to get off a few shots at the capital city, but just a few. The ion cannons that defended the planet had added their firepower to that of the station and of the defense satellites and had held the day. The damage was almost cosmetic, and so they had dispatched search and rescue and medical teams to assist the Langarans in their efforts. The Colonials had sent two of their Agro ships to Langara to assist them with force-grown food stuffs, as the agricultural areas of the planet had been hit hard.

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_**Sol Space**_

Time passed, as it inevitably did. There were more skirmishes, but these were single _Basestar_s that attempted to probe the defenses of the Alliance. Fighters and small capital ships came out of the expanded shipyards at Luna. Destroyers and frigates came out of the shipyards on Phobos, and Earth brought its first shipyard online, producing waves of _Hammerhead_ and _Thunderbolt_ fighters for local defense. The holographic construction methods that had been obtained in a technology trade with the United Federation of Planets had been put into immediate use. What had once taken days to set-up a factory yard for a particular run of craft, could now be accomplished in hours, and more often that not, it took less time than that.

The latest addition to the ever growing fleet had been the newest strike carrier to come out of the Belt Yards, the _Bismarck_. A new battle group was being formed around this vessel, and when it was completed, it would become the vanguard of the combined Alliance-Goa'uld fleet. Targets were being selected by the joint command staff for this combined fleet. It was time to take the battle to the Goa'uld, rather than wait for more piece-meal attacks.

Battle Group Five would have the _Bismarck_ as its flag ship. She would be escorted by two _Nova_s, four _Hyperion_s, two _Constellation_s, and six _Defiant_s. While BG-5 engaged the enemy, Support Group Alpha (SG-Alpha) would wait in hyperspace until the battle was over. The support group was built around the _Terran-_class troop carrier _Douglas Munro_, and she had as escorts two _Constellation_s, four _Troopers_, four _Olympus_ corvettes, a _Nightingale_-class fleet tender, and eight heavy bulk freighters.

Of course, there was also the Goa'uld fleet to consider. Six hundred _Ha'tak_s, along with several dozen _Al'kesh_ and _Rel'tac_ troop transports. The smaller transports carried only six hundred Jaffa, but the larger _Ha'tak_s carried four thousand Jaffa, all of them loyal to their own Goa'uld Gods. The Tok'ra operatives were now working closely with Krycek's own operatives to determine the major and minor holdings of Anubis. One such target, located on a desolate world known to the Goa'uld as Duat, where the ships of Anubis' fleet were built. Another prime location was Aaru, where hundreds of thousands of his Jaffa and their families resided. Aaru, was known to the Goa'uld as a verdant and fertile world, where anything that was planted quickly grew for the harvest. According to intelligence provided by the Tok'ra, Aaru was also home to a major research center for Anubis.

The two worlds, Duat and Aaru, were on the border between Alliance territory and Anubis-claimed space. These would be the first targets for the Strike group. With these two targets firmly in their control, the battle group would move on to Tartarus, where the Cylon fleet was gathering. Once Duat and Aaru had been pacified, Support Groups Bravo and Charlie would move in to assist the local populations with their newly won independence.

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_**Luna**_

_**Alliance Headquarters**_

_**Military Command Center**_

It was an interesting group in this room to be sure. On the one side, the Alliance representative, Marcus Constantine, and on the other, the First Prime to Lord Yu, Oshu. Each had aides that were busily moving to and fro, updating fleet strengths and dispositions.

"Oshu, may I ask you a question?"

"Ask your question."

"It is my understanding that a First Prime, leads the armies of Jaffa warriors for their God. That you could have as few as a dozen Jaffa and as many as several thousand Jaffa. Is this essentially correct?"

"It is."

"Are there ranks below that of First Prime?"

"Do you mean to ask, are there what you would call seconds-in-command?"

"Yes."

"Yes. I have a number of Seconds that serve to direct the armies of Yu."

"Would you mind then, if for the purposes of this temporary alliance between your master and the Alliance, that we refer to you as General? The rank of general is one who commands vast armies."

"That would be … acceptable."

"Excellent, now I know how to address you, at least in terms that I can more easily understand."

"You are also a General?"

"I am."

"Tell me then General, you have led men into battle?"

"I have been in the service of one empire or another for close to two thousand years."

"You are of the Alliance race called Immortals? How do you live for so long without a sarcophagus?"

"I am an Immortal. Our life energy is natural. We do not need a sarcophagus to extend our lives."

"Then you are truly a God!"

"No. I am no God. I am a man, like you Oshu. A little different, admittedly, but still just a man."

"But you cannot die?"

"Only an Immortal can take the life of another Immortal. But otherwise, no, I can not die."

A simple white lie. That's what his statement was. But it had become the adopted truth for all Immortals when dealing with other races, other species.

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_**Alliance Military Council**_

"Your report please, Director Krycek."

"Yes, of course. The first world on the proposed target list is Duat. This is a storm-beaten hunk of desolate rock nearest to Alliance held space. Interestingly enough, Duat is the supposed place where Egyptian dead went to be judged. The surface of the planet is not conducive to life. Fierce windstorms drive sand at extreme speeds, forcing the inhabitants to live in underground cities. The only surface buildings are protected by force-fields. In orbit over the planet are several shipyards. One of our Tok'ra operatives has identified these yards as fully in production. According to the operative, a typical Goa'uld shipyard can build three or four vessels at any one time, but the Duat Yards are currently building fifty at once. Metals to build the ships are coming from mines on the planet. The slave laborers in the underground cities dig up the ore and in turn use the mined-out sections of tunnel to live in.

"After reviewing the intelligence gathered by the operative, we have determined one weakness in the Duat facilities. The Goa'uld believe no one would chance being caught in one of the storms on the surface of the planet, so they believe themselves to be safe from attack. The defenses of the Yards at Duat are protected by several hundred orbital cannons, and hundreds of Goa'uld fighters. But, all of these defenses are coordinated from a command center on the surface of the planet. If we can figure out how to exploit that, then the battle is half over."

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_**Immortal Council Headquarters**_

_**Office of the President**_

"Come in General Sheridan. I've got good news and bad news for you."

"Should I be worried sir?"

"Probably. We've identified your first mission. It's a world called Duat. Anubis has massive shipyards there, and if we can take them out of play, then his forces could be crippled for some time to come."

"So what's the bad news?"

"Duat is a desolate world wracked by fierce wind storms. The command center for the orbital facilities and defenses is located on the surface of the world, and is protected by a force field. Preliminary estimates on wind speeds at the surface on any given day, are upwards of one hundred and twenty miles per hour."

"Ooh, lovely. Reminds me of North Africa."

"Get your mission put together. As soon as your ready, you'll be briefing the Alliance Council."

"I'll get straight on it, sir."

----------------------------------------

_**Lunar Naval Academy**_

_**Conference Room Fifteen**_

The conference room Sheridan was in now was one of many at the Academy. It was generally configured as a classroom, but as it was holographic in nature, it could be reconfigured at whim. Including himself, there were fifty people in the room. All had been hand picked by their DI's for a special mission.

"Ok, people, settle down. My name is General Jake Sheridan. Your Drill Instructors have told me you are the best of the current class of trainees at the Academy. Good. In my outfit, we only want the best."

"What kinda chicken-shit outfit is this anyways?"

"Welcome to the Alliance Rangers. If you don't want to be here, well, there's the door. If you stay, there's bound to be plenty of fighting."

Sheridan waited for all of sixty seconds, and when no one moved to leave, he activated an emergency medical hologram.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"There's no emergency at the moment, Doctor Hansen. I would like for the medics in the room to follow you to another room for additional training."

"Of course, General."

"Medics! Front and center! Follow the Doc and get briefed in on the latest medical gadgets. Where we're going, you're gonna need them."

"Now then, five of you in this room are pilots. I want you to go into the room next door. It's been set up as a simulator. You'll find the _Danube _II-class scout ships. Familiarize yourselves with those ships. There is an instructor waiting for you. We have precious little time, so get moving!"

"The rest of you, let me fill you in on our mission."

Jake pressed a series of buttons. The lights dimmed and a holographic projector showed three images, side by side. One was of a planetary system. The second, of an orbital facility and all the defenses it had. The third, was of the target world and the surface and subsurface facilities.

"This is our mission. We are to infiltrate by stealth a world belonging to Anubis. The local name for it is Duat. It's a barren world with highly intense wind storms. We need to find a way to get in undetected. Then we need to infiltrate the underground and make our way to the command facility, accessible only via a subsurface entrance. Once there, we'll need to take command of the facility, and hold it until relieved by an Alliance task force. I won't kid you, the odds are long on this one. According to intelligence reports, there are upwards of five hundred Jaffa in the facility, along with a dozen or more of the newer Kull warriors. This is your last chance to back out. Doing so will not be reflected on your record."

No one left.

----------------------------------------

_**Earth, Same time**_

Earlier that day, First Protector Mako had received a call from Earth. Specifically from some low-level functionary at the Pentagon. It seemed that a prisoner at the Guantanamo Bay facility was claiming to be an Immortal, and since Sheridan was on another mission for the President, it fell to him to investigate the possibility. He'd landed his shuttle on the helicopter pad outside the main building and just now was waiting to speak with the base commander.

"So, you're an Immortal? You don't look any different to me."

"Would you prefer I had horns, sir?"

"You're a funny man, Mr. Mako."

"Please. Just Mako. Or Protector Mako, if you must use a title."

"Alright then, Protector Mako. We have prisoners, as you are aware, that were picked up in various raids in Afghanistan and other areas of the Middle East as a result of the War on Terror. Most of the prisoners are awaiting trial, and up until a couple weeks ago, the prisoners in question were quite content to wait. But one of them must have read that article that appeared in the Washington Post some months back, when the President announced your presence on Earth. Now, we have no way of knowing if they're lying or not, but my superiors at the Pentagon have ordered me to find out. I'm told that it takes an Immortal to know another Immortal, that you have some kind of natural radar."

"Radar is as close an approximation as any, Commander. And while I can feel an Immortal on your base, I can not tell if it is one or more than one., So, if you would care to show me these prisoners?"

"Follow me. Chief! Get those special prisoners out and into the open."

"Aye sir!"

Mako stood and watched as two men and one woman were led into a conference room. All wore the orange jumpsuits that were the standard issue for the prisoners here, and all were shackled at the wrists and ankles.

"A woman?"

"Yes. She was picked up in a raid in Afghanistan, with several explosive devices, and a lot of money. All three of them have claimed cases of mistaken identity, but since we can not identity them to begin with…"

"Yes, Immortals do have a tendency to create false identity trails. That is why I am here. Will you permit me to enter the room?"

"Sure. But my guards will be watching."

"I would have it no other way."

Mako entered the room and was immediately hit with several powerful Quickenings. The ones in this room were not recent Immortals. But then again, neither was he.

"I am Mako. First Protector of the Immortal Council. Identify yourselves."

"The names we use now? Or the ones we were born with?"

"The ones you were born with."

"Katherine, of England."

"Xerxes."

"Hector."

"Very well. Now, give me a name of an Immortal whom you know and preferably one who will vouch for you. Mr. Xerxes?"

"Darius was a student of mine."

"Ms. Katherine?"

"Duncan MacLeod."

"And you sir?"

"I am Hector, Prince of Troy."

"And I need to make a phone call."

----------------------------------------

"Pierson."

"Captain Pierson, this is Protector Mako."

"How can I be of service, Protector?"

"I am presently at the US Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. There were three prisoners here claiming to be Immortals and the Pentagon asked the Immortal Embassy to investigate."

"I see. And how does this impact me?"

"One of the prisoners is a woman who claims that MacLeod would know her. Another identified himself as Xerxes and claimed to have been Darius' instructor. The other claims, and I'm not sure if I believe him, but he claims to be Hector, Prince of Troy."

"Well, Duncan is on base at the moment. We can take a shuttle to your location."

"Or you can beam directly to my shuttle as well."

"We'll be there shortly."

A gentle humming noise filled the aft cabin and very shortly Adam and Duncan joined Mako in the main cabin.

"I hear they have good cigars here too."

"Only you would use a transporter to buy some Cuban cigars, Methos."

"Gentlemen, I am grateful that you have arrived as quickly as you have. Methos, as Elder of the Immortals, perhaps you can identify the two men?"

"Who do they claim to be?"

"One gave his name as Xerxes, the other as Hector."

"Can't recall ever meeting Xerxes, though Alexander might. And while I did meet Menelaus and his wife Helen, I wasn't there for the Trojan War. How did his Quickening feel?"

"Old. Very old. Older than I at the least."

"Then let us go and meet these prisoners and see for ourselves who they are."

Mako in the duty uniform of Protector, and Duncan and Adam in Air Force Blues, approached the holding cell again. The sensation of the Quickening within brought Duncan and Mako up short, for the feeling was a powerful one, but to Adam the sensation was a vague one.

"You! I know you! You rode with Kronos!"

"You have me at a disadvantage sir, for I do not know you."

"I am Xerxes. Once known as Xerxes the Great, ruler of Persia."

"The Persian Empire. Yep, wasn't your empire conquered by Alexander?"

"An upstart young boy, but he was a formidable strategist."

"I'll be sure to tell him the next time I see him."

"He lives?"

"He does. Captain Alexander Phillipson serves with the Alliance as a leader of infantry."

"And what of the Gathering? We three felt its pull, but were unable to attend."

"The Game is false. The prize is false. The Gathering was a calling together of all Immortals for the purpose of returning to the mission for which we were created."

"Created? And who, pray tell, created us?"

"That's a rather long story. Something I'll tell you on the way to Luna, provided you wish to leave here?"

"I wish it."

"Katherine."

"Duncan. It's been a few years."

"It has. Imagine my surprise to learn you were here in this place."

"Imagine my surprise at not being able to get away from this place."

"And what of me? Shall I be forced to remain here?"

"No. I have orders that will effect your release to my custody. I will take you to Luna to stand before the Immortal Council. They will decide your fate."

----------------------------------------

_**One month later**_

_**Duat**_

A _Saber_-class frigate was in orbit over Duat, using its transporter system to carve out a small chamber where the strike teams would beam down into. It had been an accidental discovery. If matter could be beamed from place to place, then why not use it to beam matter out of a place? It had been tested on a small asteroid first and had worked as theorized. So now, the frigate, running under full stealth, was just about finished in this part of the mission. A subterranean cavern, some hundred meters in diameter had been carved from the rock beneath the wind blown surface of Duat. The first item sent down into the new chamber was a sensor probe, not unlike the MALP probes used by the SGC, though this one was attached to a small hover platform. The chamber had no atmospheric gasses and so the next item beamed down was a second probe; this one carrying a set of tanks that would release a breathable mixture into the cavern. Still, it would be necessary for the teams sent down to wear emergency respirators until such time as the probe had completed its work.

Next, the teams were sent down. Sheridan's team would be joined by two others, while two more teams waited in orbit for the signal to beam down to the force-field-less surface command center.

"Alright people. Let's get it in gear. Rivera, Lehayne, get the basics done. Masters, I need surface readings as soon as you can. Ayres, break out the phaser drills. Team Two, get the gear sorted out, and Three, get the camp set up. Look folks, it's gonna be mil-rats until we're done here. The quicker we can get through this, the quicker we can get to a bar where I'm buying."

"Alright you mutts, you heard the man! Let's get a move on!"

In the vast underground city that supported the orbital yards, a Tok'ra operative was moving with a purpose. He had delivered his report to his supervisor and then returned to await reinforcements. His mission now was not so much information gathering as it was surveillance. As a minor Goa'uld assigned to the facility, he could come and go as he pleased, yet there were still areas he could not enter without arousing suspicion, and the Goa'uld were definitely a suspicious lot.

So instead, he was planting miniaturized surveillance cameras in obscure locations that would give the Alliance attackers all the information they could need. Each camera unit fed it's imagery to a centralized location which in turn sent out data microbursts through a low-powered subspace transmitter.

The nearest receiver for that transmitter happened to be in the newly carved underground cavern inhabited by three strike teams from the Alliance.

"Sir, getting feeds from the Tok'ra cameras. Oh geez. The facility is friggin' huge, sir!"

"Keep an eye on it. We're gonna need estimates on troop strengths. See if there's any pattern to the shifts and roving patrols."

"I got it, sir."

"Ayres, how's the drilling going?"

"Drill is set up and ready to start."

"Let's get to work then."

On low power, a phaser could make a rock glow. On a higher setting, that same phaser could melt through rock. On an even higher setting, the rock would not so much melt away as vaporize. Though the phaser could theoretically vaporize a tunnel all the way to their target site, it wouldn't be a sturdy tunnel. Which was why they were going slowly, and using the replicator to make reinforcing beams for the tunnel walls and roof.

As soon as the initial part of the tunnel passed a distance of sixty feet from the starting point, a second phaser drill was put into action. This one was to carve out a small cavern as living quarters for a team. At a distance of one hundred and twenty feet, and again at one-eighty, the process was repeated, until they had three such sleeping areas. At two-forty, the first energy pack was fully drained. Sheridan called a halt in the action so that everyone could grab a quick meal. Though it felt like they had only just arrived, it had in fact been eight hours since their beam down. Eight hours and two hundred and forty feet. Not good at all. They had to speed things up. At the rate they were going, it would take a little more than a week to cover a mile, and they were three miles from their target. Three weeks living like moles underground was not anyone's idea of fun.

With the two living areas carved out, the second phaser drill was set up alongside the first one, and the rate of travel doubled from thirty feet per hour to sixty feet per hour. That translated to one mile of travel every three and two-thirds days. Eleven or so days to reach the target location. Another day or so to widen the cavern under the target site, set up the explosives, and then launch the attack.

----------------------------------------

_**One week earlier**_

_**Command Level Briefing**_

"…only fifty feet per hour? Surely you must be incorrect on that aspect, General Sheridan. One would think that a phaser on high power could cut through the rock much faster than that!"

"Yes sir, one would think that. However, one would only be correct if the cut one were making were the diameter of a pencil. Unfortunately in our case, the tunnel will need to be at least eight feet high, to allow our larger equipment to squeeze through vertically, and at least twelve feet wide, so that we can move easily and quickly. Also, we will be carving out control points, or ambush points if you prefer…"

"Very well, Sheridan. Continue with the briefing."

"Of course sirs. As I was saying, we will carve out a tunnel, some temporary living quarters for the teams, and several pre-set ambush points, in the case that the tunnel is discovered prior to achieving our primary goal. Once we have entered a point directly beneath the generators for the force fields, we will enlarge that section of tunnel to encompass enough of the above ground structure to completely collapse it when our charges go off. Within seconds of that collapse, and as the Jaffa and resident Goa'uld are in the most disarray, my teams will strike from three directions, to capitalize on that chaos."

"Expected casualties?"

"Difficult to predict, sirs. I would say none, unless one of our personal shields fail. I'm praying for a hundred percent survivability, but the realist in me says I should expect at least a ten percent death rate. We're talking about a highly complex mission in which damn near anything could go wrong."

"A student of Murphyism?"

"Sir, I'm sure Murphy might have a thing or two to say about this little op of ours, but I'm hopin' he'll keep his mouth shut, for once."

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_**Duat**_

_**Tunnel Alpha**_

"Give me a sitrep, Ayres."

"Team Two is finishing up the demo placement. The first set of charges will blow the original supports, and the reinforcements we've placed under the generator rooms will come down as planned with the second set of charges. That should bring those generators down into a cavern that will be at least one hundred feet below the surface."

"Excellent work! When Team Two is done there, send them to their entrance point. Team Three, get a move on. My team, meet me at our control point."

Exactly fifteen minutes later, all was finally in readiness. The Tok'ra operative had instructions to come in to the command center after the shooting had started, to make it appear as though he were responding to the attack. He was known by sight to all of the team members, and it was hoped that he would survive this particular mission. Sheridan gave the GO order, and one second later he heard a distant detonation as the first set of supports, the ones the Goa'uld had driven into the surrounding bedrock, were sundered and splintered. This rocked the building above it and the current residents, two minor Goa'uld technicians, looking about in alarm. Five seconds later, the second set of charges were set off, and the remaining structural supports were cut in two.

It didn't happen all at once. Aboard the _Saber_-class vessel the _Yuri Gagarin_, the images from the surface probe were sent to the main view screens. It was a slow motion sort of collapse, and those aboard the _Gagarin_ were hard pressed to see which section collapsed first. It was something they couldn't see however. The center of the surface complex was where the force field generators were located, with several corridors around them that served as choke points for invading armies. But the heaviest part of the structure was at the center and that's where the collapse began. It moved radially outwards to encompass the entire building and when it was done, nothing was left of the surface complex but a hole with dust rising up out of it.

The resident Goa'uld first realized something was wrong when he felt the distant 'thump' through the ground. The shouting of Jaffa warriors soon thereafter brought him to the command center where the reports of an explosion at the generator room were just being received. Obviously something or more probably someone had failed in their job and the result was a temporary lack of shield coverage.

It was in this first few moments of chaos and disarray that new reports of warriors falling at their posts began to filter through to him. He ordered a cohort of Jaffa to investigate and turned back to the task at hand, so he was unaware when that investigating cohort disappeared as well. Not disappeared really, just rendered unconscious by men and women wearing Jem'Hadar cloaking fields and firing single pulses from Zat guns. In fact, the resident Goa'uld knew next to nothing as several men and women suddenly appeared in his command center and fired Zat guns at his underlings.

"Who are you! What is the meaning of this!"

"I am General Jake Sheridan of the Alliance of Independent Systems, and you, sir, are my prisoner. Instruct your Jaffa to lay down their weapons or we will be forced to kill them, and frankly, I have no wish to kill those who have suborned by the petty desires of a parasite."

"How dare you speak to me in such an insolent manner!"

"Ya know, Lehayne, I've always wondered about something."

"What's that Bossman?"

"Who writes the dialogue for these Goa'uld? I mean, it's just so, well…predictable."

"Insolent Tau'ri!"

"See what I mean?"

"Yup."

"Goa'uld. Do you have a name?"

"Your insolence will you be your undoing, Tau'ri. I am Ma'at."

"Ma'at. The ancient Egyptians believed you would be their judge in the afterworld. When an Egyptian died, they believed they would be sent to Duat, where their hearts would be judged by Ma'at. Those deemed worthy were sent on to Aaru, or the eternal field of reeds, to serve out eternity under Osiris. Those deemed unworthy, were sentenced to an eternity of damnation in Duat, where their souls would be feasted upon by the serpent Ammit."

"Lotta useless trivia in your head there, Bossman."

"Yeah well, when you have a Horseman as your teacher, well, you end up with a lot of useless junk."

"Who is this Horseman?"

"Were you ever on the home world of the Tau'ri, Ma'at?"

"I was there. For centuries the Goa'uld ruled your world. We should have burned it to a cinder when we had the chance."

"And when you were there, did you hear tales of four horsemen, who rode the plains of many lands, and brought fear to the hearts of mortals everywhere they went?"

"A tale meant for scaring the younglings of the Tau'ri. Nothing more."

"I'll remind you of that, when you meet Death."

"By what right have the Tau'ri to be anything more than slaves to their Gods? Explain this to me, Tau'ri."

"By the right of our ancestors. Once, we were too young, too primitive to know better than to worship the Goa'uld as Gods. Now, we have been accepted by the major races of this galaxy as equals."

"We do not view you as equals. Who accepts you in this fashion? Whomever these other races are, they are fools to do so."

"I'd be hesitant to call an Asgard, a Nox, or a Furling a fool. I dare not call an Ancient a fool. "

"Ancients? What know the Tau'ri of the Ancients?"

"Let me guess, you've been out of the loop for awhile, eh? Been helping Anubis while he was in exile? In any case, the Ancients are still very much in this galaxy. Millennia ago, they created a species to carry out their work in this place. A creation they planned as guides, teachers, guardians, and protectors for their Chosen race."

"And who are the Chosen of the Ancients? Who are their guides and protectors?"

"The Ancients evolved on a world in this galaxy. A world you know of as the home of the Tau'ri. In the fullness of time, when the Ancients passed beyond the veil to a higher plane of existence, they left behind the seeds that would eventually grow into the Tau'ri you know of today. They also created myself and others like myself to be their protectors. The Tau'ri never knew we were among them, until recently. But these protectors were there when the Tau'ri first cast you off their world. And these protectors, though small in number, have now been awakened to the threat the Goa'uld possess. We have once again taken up the mantle for which we were created."

"If the Tau'ri are the Chosen of the Ancients, then who are their Protectors? This you have not answered."

"I did answer. You just weren't paying attention. You ask who their protectors are. I am one of that species. I am one of their Protectors."

"Insolence! Lies!"

"Well, lies or not, and insolence or not, you are now a prisoner of the Alliance. In a few moments, you will be moved to a secure brig facility on one of our ships now in orbit. Your Jaffa will be rounded up and transported to a secure facility on a distant world. Life as you have known it has come to an end."

The Goa'uld's eyes glowed fiercely, but before he could launch into another tirade of inept rhetoric laced with cries of 'insolence' and 'Tau'ri', a transporter beam engulfed him and he was gone.

"_Gagarin_ actual to strike team actual. Prisoner is aboard, but none to happy about it."

"I expected as much. Status of support mission?"

"Group Bravo is entering orbit and beginning their operations. As soon as the operations chief is on the ground, we'll pick up your teams to head for target two. Your supplies in the cavern have already been retrieved and placed temporarily into one of our cargo bays. We will keep the prisoner aboard for the moment."

"Understood _Gagarin_. Awaiting Bravo Ops Chief."

----------------------------------------

_**Aaru**_

_**One Week later**_

It had been a very short R&R period for the strike teams under General Sheridan. Five teams, including his own, were now aboard the _Yuri Gagarin_, cloaked and in orbit over Aaru. This world, unlike the last one they had so recently spent many days burrowing beneath, was a verdant and lush tropical planet, filled will all manner of plant life, but almost no animal life beyond the human life signs on the planet. Another Tok'ra operative had identified this world as belonging to Osiris, the Goa'uld which currently inhabited the body of Sarah Gardner, formerly of Earth.

In the Ancient Egyptian pantheon of Gods, Osiris was identified with all things agricultural, and it fitted that this entire planet was the equivalent of the 'bread basket' for Anubis' empire.

Sheridan was in his small ship-board office going over the paperwork for the last mission when one of his team mates came in.

"Hey Bossman. You busy?"

"Ya know, Lehayne, no matter how many times someone tries to convince me that our society in the Alliance is paperless, I really should stop believing in that. Even though what we use are screens and crystals and data-pads, there will always be 'paperwork' to do. But other than this stack of reports that I should be going through, no, not real busy, why?"

"Cause I'm in need of a sparring partner and I just wondered if you'd care to join me?"

"What kinda sparring?"

"Well since we're supposed to go in to Aaru looking like Jaffa, I was thinking Staff Weapons?"

"Works for me. I'll even go easy on you."

"Nah. Give it your best shot. I'll even make it interesting. Loser has to do all the cooking on the next mission."

"And if I win?"

"I'll figure something out."

"Ok. You're on. Training room in half an hour?"

"I'll be there."

----------------------------------------

_**Aaru**_

The teams were in a cave overlooking the main heavily fortified city of Aaru. While the surroundings were similar to their last mission, at least this time, they didn't have to dig. They'd been on-world for three days now, scoping out the lay of the land, watching the slaves as they went to and from the city into the fields, and observing the Jaffa as they walked about on their patrols. Sheridan was still grumbling a bit about losing the staff match to Lehayne. In all his life as an Immortal, he'd never seen anyone move as fast as she had. For someone that had so recently been in prison for multiple murders, and who didn't have any formal fighting style beyond what she'd said was a street fighting technique, she'd had him on the floor and yielding in under a minute. It'd made him quite humble at the time. But he'd been true to his word and had taken over the KP duties for this mission. The teams under his command were not grumbling about that at all.

Teams two and three had stayed behind on the ship, ready to beam down after the mission had commenced. Teams four and five were with his team one for this part of the mission.

"Yakim, Al-Qadir, I have an idea."

"Uhm, Bossman, when you get an idea, it usually means this mission just got harder."

"Hey! No fair. Y'all gots to treat the cook right or you might get a dose of my famous Texas chili."

"No! No. We'll be nice!"

"That's what I thought. Ok, so my idea is this. We have the personal cloaking fields as part of our gear. We used them to surprise the hell outta Ma'at. So let's use them again, but this time to gather intel before we make our move. Yakim, I want your team to scout out the patrols. Find out their routes, and the times they make those patrols. Al-Qadir, you and your team are to observe the slaves as they go to and from the city. Find out what times they go out and come in. See if the gate guards do any sort of random searches. I also want you to listen in on the conversation of the workers, if at all possible. See if there's any grumbling about the resident 'God'."

"What are you gonna do, Bossman?"

"My team and I are going to scout the inside of the city. If we can get close to the shield generators and to the defense systems, I'm gonna paint 'em."

"For an orbital strike. Sounds like a plan, Boss. When should we move out?"

"Well, from what we've seen, the people appear in the fields a little after sun-up, so I'm thinking we need to be in position around thirty minutes before sunrise. I think what we'll do is make it an early night, activate the automated sensors, and tuck everyone into bed. We're gonna need our sleep over the next few days."

"Are you sure you want to forego the watches tonight?"

"Yeah. The sensors can deal with the watch for a few hours."

"You say so sir."

----------------------------------------

_**1100 Hours Local**_

Yakim's Team Four was shadowing the Jaffa patrols on their sweeps around the perimeter, but so far they had seen nothing out of the ordinary. Al-Qadir's team was observing the locals as they worked in the fields and though they were hearing a few rumblings, it was nothing that they could use. Sheridan's team, on the other hand, was inside the city and sending tight beam transmission to the _Gagarin_ in orbit, marking the locations of the various surface to orbit cannons and shield generators. Sheridan had seen nothing untoward until he got a call from Lehayne. She had stumbled onto something very big and he was making his way to her location.

"What do you have, Lehayne?"

"Something the Tok'ra operative either didn't know about, or failed to mention. There's passage over there that leads to underground hangar and manufacturing facilities. At a guess, there must be over a thousand death gliders down there. I saw more Jaffa than I could count. And one more thing. Kull warriors. Hundreds of them."

"Fuck!"

"Amen Bossman."

Sheridan moved quickly to a spot just outside the city and opened a tight beam link to the ship above.

"Strike Actual to _Gagarin_ Actual."

"Something wrong, Jake?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you, Scully."

"Try me."

"Instead of waiting to make contact with the local Tok'ra operative, I sent out my teams to do a little scouting. This target just seems too perfect. Call me paranoid, but I just didn't trust that such a ripe target would be so unprotected."

"Find something?"

"Yeah. _Udajeet_ fighters. Well over a thousand of them. And several hundred Kull warriors."

"Strange how our resident Tok'ra failed to mention those little facts, eh Sheridan?"

"Relay that info back to Alliance HQ. Tell them I need new instructions."

"Roger that. Stand by."

----------------------------------------

_**Elsewhere**_

"My Lord."

"Ammit. Have you new information?"

"The Tau'ri have fallen for the trap, my Lord. I have been contacted by my 'control officer' and have been instructed to await a communication from the strike team leader."

"Do you know who the Tau'ri will send?"

"Soldiers from the Alliance, my Lord."

"Any hok'tar among them?"

"It is my understanding that the leader of the strike force is hok'tar."

"Imagine it Ammit. If we could capture some of these hok'tar, we would no longer need the sarcophagus. We would become stronger even than Anubis himself!"

"What are your orders, my Lord?"

"As soon as the hok'tar contacts you, arrange a meeting. I will 'surprise' you at your meeting with a full cohort of Kull Warriors. We will capture their soldiers and force the hok'tar to work for us."

"How can you force him to work for us, my Lord?"

"By putting his soldiers under threat of death."

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_**Citadel of Aaru**_

"All teams, Sheridan. Retreat at best possible speed to campsite. First team on site needs to get packed up. We're changing locations as soon as possible."

"Boss, Yakim. What's up?"

"Those feelings I had yesterday? That this target was sweet? It's a friggin' trap! All teams, get the campsite packed up and head to alternate site Helo. Repeat, site Helo. Team leaders, confirm."

"Yakim confirms Helo."

"Al-Qadir confirms Helo."

"Move it!"

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_**Site Helo**_

They had prepared this site as a fall back position, but now Sheridan wanted to use it because he feared the Tok'ra operative might be working for the other side. If that were true, then the fate of his teams rested in his hands. For about half a second, he regretted taking the President's offer, then he felt remorse for the feelings of regret. These people under his command were good soldiers, all of them. He would do his best by them. Even if it cost him his life. As soon as the last team was inside the new cave bunker, Sheridan called an immediate meeting with the other two team leaders.

"What spooked you, Bossman?"

"Lehayne found a passage to an underground facility. Over a thousand fighters, and several hundred Kull warriors."

"Shit."

"That about covers it."

"Chief Briggs, get on the radio relay. Let's send a message to our Tok'ra operative. Make sure the transmitter we left behind at the other campsite is the one transmitting."

"I'm on it, sir."

----------------------------------------

"Ammit?"

"Are you Sheridan?"

"I am."

"Have you arrived on the planet?"

"I have. Do you have an update for me?"

"Yes. We should meet. What is your location?"

"No. Not here. I'll come to you. Tell me where."

"In the city, there is a central square. Look for the blacksmith. I will be there in one hour."

"One hour. Got it. I'll be there."

----------------------------------------

"Chief, give me one of those hologram projectors. There's no way in Hell that I'm gonna meet with the Tok'ra in person. Dieter, Lehayne, you're with me. The rest of you, get this bunker ready for a fight, just in case."

Sheridan made his approach to the city with caution, even though he and his two team mates were wearing cloaking fields. Hans Dieter, the other sniper in his team, he left on a small hillock overlooking the city gates. Lehayne went in with him to watch his back. He still had about fifteen minutes before the meet, and he'd already found the smithy. He set up near it, and activated the holographic projector. It looked like him, it talked like him, and it moved like him. He used the camera part of the projector to take a snapshot of the locals, then used the images therein to create a reasonable facsimile of the local clothing for the hologram.

At the appointed time, the holographic Sheridan was seen to walk out of a nearby building and up to the smithy. Less than a moment later, the Tok'ra operative, Ammit, joined it.

"Sheridan?"

"You have the pass phrase?"

"'For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother'"

"Be he ne'er so vile. Henry the fifth, act four, scene three."

"You and your team are in place?"

"We are. Do you have new information for me?"

"I do. Osiris has recently set up a manufacturing center on this world. The, I believe the term is uniforms, of the Kull warriors are made here."

"Well, that is interesting news. Anything else?"

"One more thing. Jaffa! Kree!"

The holographic Sheridan looked up in surprise and turned around quickly only to find a score of Jaffa standing there. One raised a zat gun and fired it at him and the holographic projection vanished into the ether. Ammit looked surprised at that. Very surprised.

"Dieter, watch our six. The meet was a trap. Ammit is a traitor. Lehayne and I are bugging out now!"

But the planned egress and the actual egress were two entirely different things. As Sheridan began to move away from the commotion, he ran into a child who screamed at the sudden hit from nothing. Lehayne grimaced and Sheridan grunted. Between Sheridan's grunt of surprise and the child's scream, it was enough of a ruckus to turn the heads of the Jaffa, who began firing indiscriminately into the area from where the noise originated. Sheridan took a glancing blow from a zat gun, and the extra energy coursing around him overloaded the cloaking field. He was not fully exposed, but it was enough to allow the Jaffa to be able to target him more directly.

Sheridan ran. He knew that Lehayne was somewhere ahead of him, but he couldn't see her. There. The city gates. Just a few more feet and he'd be in Dieter's sights.

"Dieter! I've got a tail. Discourage them for me!"

"Of course, mein leader."

The rifle Dieter was using was a recent addition to the Alliance forces. It had built on Earth by the Barrett Company and it fired a twenty-five millimeter shell out to a distance of well over two thousand meters. He wanted to discourage Sheridan's pursuers, but obviously he didn't want to hit Sheridan. He loaded a flash-bang round into the breech and dialed in the distance. From his perch atop a small hillock, the city gates were a mere eighteen hundred meters away. An easy task for this new gun.

The flash-bang round had been initially designed as a demonstrator model, but had been adopted by the Alliance military as a practical round. It had the capability of creating the same type of flash and bang as a hand-thrown grenade, but could reach a target much farther away. This would be his first shot of the battle, but odds were, not his last.

The pursuing Jaffa were just beginning to emerge in strength from the city gates when he depressed the trigger. It broke at a clean six pounds of pressure. With the first round on its way, Dieter loaded a second shell, this one a high explosive round with an air burst capability. By the time the second shell had been seated in the chamber, the first round had detonated amongst the pursuing Jaffa cohorts, stunning them with the loud report of explosives and the bright flash of magnesium light. Dieter dialed in the distance and pulled the trigger, sending out his second round of the engagement.

Sheridan had gotten well clear of his pursuers by the time the second round appeared over head and detonated, flattening the Jaffa to the ground, and killing one or two outright.

"Thanks, Dieter. I owe you one."

"Ja."

"Lay down a couple smoke, and beat feet back to the bunker. I'm gonna head for site Golf. I'll come in under the cover of darkness. My cloak is fried."

"Understood, lead. Luck."

"Thanks Dieter."

Instead of heading directly for the bunker in the hills, Sheridan zigged away in a new direction, leaving a clear trail for the Jaffa to follow. There was a narrow river about three klicks away. His trail would lead them right to the river and then disappear. He planned to enter the water, float downstream some, then exit the river at a point two or three klicks from his entrance point, then backtrack cautiously to site Golf, where hopefully, the _Gagarin_ would have beamed down a spare pack and weapon. Then he'd head back to the bunker to prepare to lay siege to the citadel.

----------------------------------------

_**Yuri Gagarin**_

"Mr. Roberts, drop our cloak and raise shields."

"Aye sir. Shields coming up and cloak is off."

"Mr. Bailey, lock in targeted coordinates and fire when ready."

"Yes sir! Coordinates locked in. Firing pulse phasers. First target destroyed. Switching to next set of coordinates."

"Sir! Sensors show multiple vessels decloaking ahead. Readouts indicate _Al'kesh_ bombers!"

"Arm all weapons! Fire as they come to bear!"

Space was awash with beams of phased energy and globs of plasma. The _Gagarin_ was a ship of comparable size to the _Al'kesh_, and one on one or even three on one would have been a fair fight, but fifteen on one wasn't. The _Gagarin_ gave as good as it could, taking out four of the _Al'kesh_ before its shields fell to a critical level, and its captain, William Scully, Jr., ordered a retreat. For the moment, the strike teams on the ground were on their own.

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_**Alliance Headquarters**_

_**Luna**_

There were two operations underway at the moment; a peace-keeping mission to stabilize Duat now that the inhabitants there had been freed, and the strike mission to Aaru. The watch officer thought for a moment that all might be proceeding according to plan, when the incoming message light began to blink in a fierce red pattern. That meant there was CRITIC information coming in from somewhere in the field.

"…_Gagarin_ reporting. Forced to retreat with battle damage. Surprised by fifteen cloaked _Al'kesh_. Strike teams on surface of Aaru compromised. Tok'ra operative is a traitor. Team betrayed. Headed to DRB Six for repairs. Request instructions…"

Oh fuck, he thought. The watch office in question pressed the panic button and shortly was joined by Admiral Constantine.

"Report!"

"Message received from the _Gagarin_ sir. They were betrayed by the Tok'ra operative on Aaru. Strike teams left to fend for themselves. The _Gagarin_ was jumped by fifteen _Al'kesh_. They took battle damage. They're headed for Deep Range Base Six for emergency repairs. _Gagarin_ is awaiting instructions from us."

"Monitor the channel. Instruct the _Gagarin_ to repair as quickly as possible and to await further instructions."

----------------------------------------

_**DRB Six**_

The Deep Range Base network had been only recently established. It was, in essence, a salvaged half of a Cylon _Basestar_ that had been modified to repair and replenish the ships of the fleet. It had no fleet yards attached to it, but it had extensible docking arms and cradles that could support a vessel while repairs were under way. Base Six was located approximately four hundred light years from Aaru, and fifteen hundred light years from Earth. It had a minimal compliment of fighters as it relied heavily on defense platforms and the hundreds of flak turrets on its structure. The main gun was the same standard Cylon Mega-pulsar found on all of their capital ships.

_Gagarin_ arrived in a burst of hyperspace and starlight. It was directed to a docking cradle. As it pulled along side the station to enter the cradle, those personnel looking through the nearby windows saw long scorch marks on the hull of the vessel, and several punctures where only the emergency force fields were holding space out and atmosphere in. But that damage was external. It was the interior damage that would keep them here at DRB Six for at least two weeks. Ruptured and overloaded conduits. Inoperable torpedo launchers. Burnt out phaser arrays. A collapsed hangar deck with four crushed _Danube_ II's.

The _Gagarin_'s sister ship, the _Vladimir_ _Komarov_ was on its way to DRB-Six, but was still a couple hours out. When it arrived, it would have to wait for a lot of help before it could proceed to Aaru.

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_**Luna**_

_**Office of the President**_

Marius took a moment to look at the three men seated opposite him. All were legends in Earth history. Xerxes the Great, a one time Persian King from a time before Alexander conquered those lands. Alexander, seated in the middle, who had been with Marius during their inter-dimensional journeys, and who had fought exceptionally well during the Borg Campaign. Hector, son of King Priam, of Troy. Thirty two hundred years of life and experience in that one. Alexander, he knew, would not hesitate to offer his services for the mission ahead, but could he ask the same of the other two?

"As you've undoubtedly heard by now, we have a strike team cut off from support on the Goa'uld stronghold world of Aaru. The strike team leader is a young-ish Immortal; General Jacob Sheridan. If anyone can survive what lies ahead in the next few weeks, it will be him. But his teams are relatively untested. The operation on Duat was a cakewalk by comparison. Our last communication with them was through the _Gagarin_ before she had to leave orbit of Aaru. Sheridan and his teams were betrayed by a Tok'ra operative. We need to form a force to rescue and relieve Sheridan. I can't, no, I won't order one of you to go."

"Say no more, Marius. I will go."

"Alex, you've been with me since the beginning of this campaign against the Goa'uld. But in all honesty, we need your skills if we are to pull off the planned operation on Tartarus. The main enemy there will be the Kull warriors on the ground. The fleet can handle itself against the forces of Anubis."

"I can do this mission, then move on to the planning for Tartarus. You know it, and I know it."

"You have a thousand men under your command Alex, all of them trained and ready to fight against the Kull. But you are all we have at the moment, and I'm hesitant to use you for a rescue operation."

"Then it falls to one of us, if not to Alexander. I will go, Mr. President. If the forces of the Alliance will follow me, I will lead them into battle on Aaru and save Sheridan."

"I don't think the Alliance forces will have any problems following a man who fought the Greeks for ten years. If you truly want the job, and the rank that goes with it, it is yours, Hector."

"And what of me?"

"How do you feel about going to school for a short while?"

"To learn what, exactly?"

"We are in need of Immortal officers of Flag rank. You already have the leadership ability, but you need to learn about the ships of our fleets and how best to utilize them."

"Then I accept your offer."

----------------------------------------

_**Aaru**_

_**Site Golf**_

Sheridan was a bit winded by the time he reached Site Golf. He was concerned that he'd been unable to make contact with the _Gagarin_, but he was grateful that a spare pack and a sniper rifle had been beamed down to this location. He had been about to replace the cloaking module on his field gear when he heard a noise behind him. He turned quickly, bringing his sword up in a defensive posture and was both angry and relieved when Lehayne dropped her cloak.

"I should be grateful that you're here, Lehayne, but I should also be angry because you didn't go back to the bunker."

"So, you're gratefully angry? Look, Bossman, you're the Chief and I'm just an Indian, but I figured you could use the help."

"Ok. The thought is definitely appreciated. Let me finish up here, then we'll rig a few claymores for our 'friends'."

"Then what?"

"Head back to the city area, find a place to hunker down and give them as much hell as we can while we wait for reinforcements."

"You think the Alliance will send troops out?"

"I'm counting on it. Let's move out!"

Sheridan had replaced his cloak, but he still moved with caution lest he leave a trail a blind man could follow. He and Lehayne had gone about two klicks when they heard a muffled explosion behind them.

"Scratch a few Jaffa from the equation, Lehayne."

"Yes sir."

Sheridan had a spot in mind and he was headed there now. The Goa'uld citadel lay in a shallow valley, surrounded by low forested hills on all sides. He was headed for one of those hills now. He planned to carve out a small opening on the back side of the hill, and then tunnel his way to the other side, and set up a second bunker and firing position. If he could get this new position set up quickly, and then get a third position set up on the other side of the Citadel, he might be able to catch any troops coming out of the city in a nasty crossfire. It would take some doing, but it was theoretically possible.

About four hours later, Sheridan and Lehayne reached the spot where he wanted to dig an opening. He sent Lehayne to the top of the hill to keep an eye on their surroundings while he started to dig. He wanted to use his E-Tool first, to get the hole started so as not to give away his position with any lights from the phaser drill. Fortunately the top soil broke fairly easily. He'd gotten about eight inches in when he hit solid rock and bent his shovel blade. A few tree limbs and a non-reflective heat shield in place, Sheridan broke out the phaser drill and started cutting into the rock. He stopped two hours later when he'd carved out a small niche, just big enough for him and Lehayne to crawl into and pull a camo net over them.

He crawled in first, and set to work, while she crawled in behind him. There was just enough room to crawl, but not even to squat. He set the phaser to a wider cutting beam and began carving downward into the rock. He worked all through the night, changing out the power packs only when they were completely drained. Lehayne had six power cells in her pack, and Sheridan was already on his third cell. But by the time the sun rose the next morning, he'd managed to carve out a small chamber, tall enough to stand up in. He sent a quick message to Yakim, informing him of the new plan, and then proceeded to make a quick meal for himself and Lehayne before getting some much needed rest. He would continue the digging after he'd rested.

----------------------------------------

_**Palace of Aaru**_

"Ammit. You failed to capture the hok'tar."

"I did, my Lord. He used a technology I did not believe the Tau'ri had yet mastered. He used a holographic projector to show an image of himself while he stayed out of sight."

"And you did not perceive that it was a projection?"

"The projection was solid to the touch, my Lord. It was impossible to tell the difference."

"I see. We must learn how they are able to do this. We must capture them and bleed them for information."

----------------------------------------

_**Next evening**_

_**2100 hours local**_

Sheridan was back at work, drilling and drilling, widening out their sleeping chamber and cutting small side tunnels that would eventually become passages to the surface. Passages that would allow one person a perch from which to shoot, or lob mortar shells. At his next scheduled check in with Yakim, Sheridan learned that Al-Qadir's team had moved out to find a spot for another bunker. Apparently both of the other team leads agreed to spread out their limited firepower. Also, it was a good idea never to concentrate your limited forces in one area, as there was too much chance of your forces being captured by the enemy. And in this particular case, capture by the enemy, meant interrogation, Goa'uld style.

----------------------------------------

_**2100 hours local**_

_**Three days later**_

The new bunker was complete and his team would be joining him shortly before sunrise. They would be bringing with them spare mortar tubes, and two of the six bigger guns that they had. A fifty caliber machine gun, and an Mk-19 grenade launcher. A belt fed grenade launcher. Lehayne approached him and sat down beside him, as he looked down the hillside towards the Citadel.

"Boss, you were a cop before all this happened?"

"Yep. Texas Ranger. Why?"

"You have access to my records, right?"

"I know you were in prison. I know it was for murder. But I don't think that's accurate."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Like I said, I was a Texas Ranger. I've been with the Rangers since just before the Civil War. I know a murderer when I see one, and you, Lehayne, are not one."

"But I did kill a man. More than one actually. And you know what? I enjoyed it."

"He musta been a very bad man then."

"He wanted to take over the world. He wanted to make all humans into his slaves."

"Like I said, a bad man. Way I see it, you did the world a favor. As far as I'm concerned, when you signed on to be one of my Rangers, the slate was wiped clean."

"And when my duty tour is up and I head back to Earth, I won't be able to get a decent job because I'm an ex-con."

"So, stay on Luna. Stay with the Rangers. You've got potential, Lehayne. You can be the best. I've seen it in the way you fight, in the way you move."

"Know why I joined up?"

"To kill things?"

"That too. Fighting makes me horny. And what can I say, I like sex."

"Hell Lehayne, I like sex too. But I sure as hell am not gonna have it with you in this here foxhole of ours. For one, at my age, I'd much prefer a bed."

"Are you suggesting something, sir?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Lehayne. You're a soldier under my command. It would break so many regulations it wouldn't be funny. But I like your style. When this war is over, maybe you and I could have dinner?"

"Wouldn't I still be under your command?"

"Nope. I'm guessing the Rangers will be disbanded after the war is won."

"Oh. I see. Well, then yes, I'd love to go out with you."

"Just do me one favor Lehayne."

"What's that, Boss?"

"Don't go and get yourself killed."

"Are you kidding? And risk missing our date? No way!"

----------------------------------------

_**Earth**_

_**SGC**_

"What do you mean, he's missing?"

"I'm sorry Jack. He missed his scheduled check-in."

"Do we have any information yet?"

"Just this. It came via the State Department. Some rebels in the hills claim to have taken two American scientists prisoner and are holding them for ransom."

"It's gotta be Daniel and Dr. Lee."

"The government won't pay their ransom."

"They won't have to. I'll go down and get him myself."

"Good luck, Jack."

O'Neill went straight to the armory to draw out a few weapons and nearly walked right into Adam.

"Going hunting, Jack?"

"You heard?"

"I did. I'm coming with. I owe Daniel."

"Get your gear, Adam."

----------------------------------------

A week passed. The three teams remained undiscovered, watching over the target, making plans for the fight they knew would soon come. The discovery of Team Five happened by accident. A child wandered away from its parents on the field and literally stumbled onto the sentry that Team Five had posted near the base of the hill. Of course, the sentry was cloaked and of course the child didn't see him, but the child screamed all the same and the Jaffa came to investigate. That's when all Hell broke loose on three hills surrounding the Goa'uld Citadel.

"Shit! Chief! Jaffa incoming!"

"All teams, lead. Warm it up folks! Give them everything we have!"

"Lehayne! Try the subspace radio again! If the Alliance is listening like we think, they have to do something and quick!"

A score of Jaffa warriors started up the hill where team Five was located. They made it about ten feet before a half dozen mortar rounds landed amongst them. All of the Jaffa were killed by flying shrapnel, cut to ribbons before they hit the ground. From the hilltop where Teams Four and One are located, long range sniper fire began to pick off targets coming out of the Citadel. At first, the Jaffa fell easily as the armor piercing rounds penetrated their armor, but then the first Kull warrior appeared. It was something that was bound to happen, given the fact that they were present on the planet, but Sheridan had hoped they wouldn't be used. The volume of fire became heavier as the teams tried to stop the advancing Kulls, but it was of little use. Their armor and their shields were just too strong to allow the more primitive projectile weapons of the Alliance to break through. Sheridan was the first to try it. The rifle version of the PPG. He unloaded a full cap at one target, hitting it with thirty-two high power shots, enough to burn through several inches of steel. It took all thirty two shots to kill the Kull.

They didn't have a lot of caps for the rifles, only a dozen for the entire team. McShane and Ayres were steadily pouring fire into the ranks of the Kulls; the heavier seven point six two millimeter having a limited effect. But they were also pumping out grenades at the near targets while Rivera and Masters were dropping sixty millimeter mortar rounds on the advancing enemy soldiers.

"Boss, do you hear that?"

"Hear what Lehayne?"

"I'm not sure. It sounds like a wolf howling."

Sheridan's head angled to the left and he thought 'a wolf _howl_?' then it angled to the right and he thought again, 'a _wolf_ howl?'. He'd heard such a howl before, but that was back on Earth, right? As soon as that thought framed itself in his head, his radio chimed in.

"Strike lead, do you copy?"

"Strike lead. Who's this?"

"Cavalry's here, strike leader. Give us a smoke round where the enemy is concentrated so we can relieve some of the pressure."

"Dieter, one round, smoke, in the middle of the advancing Kulls."

"Ja."

It was a wonder that he hadn't heard it before now. It did sound like a wolf's howl. From behind the hills to his right, seven helicopters popped up. Never had he seen a sight so sweet as at that particular moment. 'I guess Marius and Archangel worked out a deal after all,' thought Sheridan. It looked similar to the helicopter, to the _Airwolf_ that he had seen in Texas not too long ago, yet it was different. It seemed sleeker and meaner, if that was possible.

"That you Hawke?"

"We meet again, Ranger."

"I gotta say, I'm glad we did. The enemy soldiers are wearing Jackal head armor and black skin-tight armor. Take them out if you can, cause we're having a hell of time taking down the guys in black."

"We'll take care of them for you."

"Cait, give me chain guns. Let's see if the new rail guns work as designed."

"Chain guns online."

The man in the pilot's seat was Stringfellow Hawke. For many years he had flown a secret helicopter for a certain US Intelligence Agency, doing their bidding in exchange for their assistance in locating his brother who was at the time still missing in action in Viet Nam. Now, both Hawke brothers had been reunited. Stringfellow flew the lead bird in this formation while his brother Saint John was flight lead for another section that was even now flying cover for the advancing elements of the 1st Armored division.

Now Jake heard something different. A loud and low rumble that made his heart jump with joy. Those could only be tanks coming up behind the hills. Oh, I'd hate to be Osiris right about now.

----------------------------------------

_**Thirty minutes earlier**_

_**Palace of Aaru**_

"Speak Jaffa."

"My Lord. The Jaffa report there are three positions from which the Tau'ri are attacking. We will have them surrounded within moments."

"Excellent! Take them prisoner. I shall want plenty of Tau'ri on which to hone my interrogation techniques."

"My Lord! Sensors detect multiple vessels in orbit. They must have been cloaked!"

"How many vessels!"

"Twenty-six vessels in two distinct groupings."

"Have they made any hostile actions as yet?"

"Sensors indicate one vessel has split into three units. One of those units is coming down to the surface! It will land fifty kilometers north of the Citadel."

"Launch all fighters! Kree!"

But before any fighters could launch, a series of strikes from orbit, using the locator beacons that Lehayne had left in place many days before, struck the hangar entrances, collapsing them and trapping within all the fighters and _Al'kesh_ bombers. Only a few fighters that had been on patrol in the system were available, and these were quickly dispatched by the hundreds of fighters launched from the Alliance vessels.

"My Lord! We are unable to launch any fighters! Tau'ri weapons have collapsed the entrances to the hangars!"

"Kree! Prepare my vessel for launch!"

"I regret that we are unable to My Lord. It was in the hangar for routine maintenance."

"Nooo!"

The tanks that appeared from behind the hills were not what Sheridan expected. He expected the Abrams Main Battle Tank. What he saw instead were the new phaser tanks and photon artillery units that the Alliance had just completed in time for this battle. The phaser tanks had a single turret with a type VIII phaser cannon, and two small type VI phaser strips for defense against airborne targets. The photon artillery were styled similar to the Paladin self-propelled guns, but instead fired a low yield photon shell at the enemy.

There were also troop carriers that hovered less than a foot above the uneven ground. The tops of each APC had one rapid fire rail gun, and each unit carried sixteen soldiers into the battle.

As Goa'uld heavy cannon fired at the approaching vehicles, they learned that the vehicles were shielded, much to their dismay. Photon artillery shells began falling around the Citadel, neatly bracketing it and telling those within that the Alliance had their number, lock, stock, and Jaffa. The next shots could very well come directly into the city, killing hundreds. A photon round flew up from its launcher and landed dead center amidst a large group of Kull warriors. Their shields coruscated with intense energies before they fell to the ground, lifeless at last.

----------------------------------------

_**House of Tanar**_

_**Citadel of Aaru**_

Tanar was one of many slaves on Aaru. His family had been on this world for generations. The Ancestors had been brought to this world from a place far away through the Chappa'ai from a world only remembered in myths and legends. Their God, Osiris, had brought them here to work the fields for this place had very fertile soils and it took not much work to grow food. But theirs was a cruel God, one that reveled in torture and pain. Word of uprisings had trickled to them from visitors from other worlds, though they knew not what had begun the rebellion. Tanar imagined that it was the people, learning that their Gods were false ones.

Tanar was a man among men on this world. As a descendant of a tribal king, his family had long taken up the reigns of authority over the other slave families. And for generations, when there had been no God on Aaru, the peoples of Aaru had gone about their business, hoping against hope that the evil Gods would not return. But they did. Now, as Tanar and his family cowered under their rickety furniture in their one room hut of a home, he prayed that the mysterious Tau'ri would come to their rescue.

A man came to his home, running and out of breath. His home was nearer to the palisades that surrounded the Citadel of Aaru. From his window, he saw the Hell spawned Kull warriors fall lifeless to the ground. He spoke of mysterious magical machines that spat beams of light that made the ranks of Jaffa vanish from sight. Tanar knew the moment had come at last. Using the man to spread the word, the slave residents of Aaru took up whatever arms were at hand. Pitch forks, scythes, axes, and clubs of wood. The few huntsmen who lived in the Citadel, those who hunted with bow and arrow and spear, took up the cause as well.

In his palace, Osiris learned of the uprising amongst the slave population from his first prime. The planet was in the midst of a revolution and for the first time in centuries, Osiris was in fear.

Outside the walls, the ranks of phaser tanks covered the approach of the APCs. Hundreds of troops came out of the backs of the personnel carriers and stormed through the gates of the Citadel. Interspersed among them were the strike teams that had been under siege for many days. Sheridan and his team moved to the front, taking the lead of a company of infantry, and charging up to the doors of the palace. A few well placed charges and the doors were down and the infantry was in.

The palace was laid out much like a standard Goa'uld _Ha'tak_, only that this structure was very much planet bound. Sheridan and his team led the way to the throne room to find Osiris hiding behind a score of Jaffa.

"Osiris! We have come for you! Surrender yourself!"

"Never! Jaffa, kree!"

The personal defense shields of the infantry repelled the attacks by the Jaffa staff weapons, just long enough for Zat guns to be deployed and fired. The score of Jaffa fell to the ground and now Osiris faced an angry company of infantry.

"Last chance to surrender, Goa'uld."

"Never!"

"Your choice, lady. Lehayne, take her out."

"You send a child to fight me?"

"I'm no child, you bitch!"

Osiris stood no chance against Lehayne. Faith was poetry in motion, with kicks and throws and punches that rained down on Osiris. In one movement of distraction, Lehayne managed to take the Ribbon Device from her hand and tossed it behind her.

"You move with such speed and grace. Surely you are hok'tar. Why do you fight for these lesser creatures?"

"I ain't no hok'tar you twit. I am just myself."

Osiris seemed to pause for a moment to consider the answer. He had been beaten, in a fashion that had not ever occurred to him. Hand to hand combat was something the Jaffa partook of, not a God. But the outcome was inevitable.

"I surrender."

And with that, the battle for Aaru was over. In the hours afterwards, Sheridan learned of the slave uprising and spoke with the acknowledged leader of the uprising, Tanar.

"You are of the Tau'ri?"

"I am. I am called Jacob Sheridan. I am a leader among my people."

"I am Tanar. The slaves of this world were brought here through the Chappa'ai from a world far from here, many generations ago. Our tribal shaman say that there have been over twenty hundred winters on this world, yet we are a small population. For a time, for many hundred winters, the false God Osiris was not here. Then a few winters ago, he returned in the form of a woman. Our numbers were vast before the Return, but the God demanded many of my people serve him as Jaffa. Then came the Sokar spawned Kulls and our lives changed for the worse."

"Do your tribal shaman have any names for the world from which your ancestors came?"

"Our shaman tell of a God called Apoyan Tachi, who created the world. We do not know the name for that world, but it is said that our tribes were plentiful and strong, and they worshipped nature in all her gloried creations. It is said they lived in villages called 'pweblos' but this we can not confirm, as the legends and myths are handed down through stories."

"That is most interesting, Tanar. On my world, the world of the Tau'ri, there are tribes collectively called the Pueblo Indians. Among them, are a tribe called the Zuni, who are much as you describe. Perhaps, your people were taken from among them?"

"Perhaps this is true. But we do not have any desire to return to the world of the Ancestors. It is good to know that our Ancestors and the Tau'ri are one and the same. I thank you for freeing us from the cruel and vile false God, and we pledge our assistance in ridding the stars of all of the False Gods!"

"Come Tanar, let us walk among your people. I wish to know what this city produced for the false ones."

"Then let us walk among the people, Sheridan of the Tau'ri."

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_**Luna**_

_**Alliance Command Center**_

_**One Week Later**_

_**Debriefing in Progress**_

"Your report, please, Director Krycek."

"Of course, sirs. An informant on Earth has given us some new information. A new group calling themselves the Trust has been formed. Our early information on this group indicates that it is made up of powerful corporations that want the technologies now in possession of the SGC and the Alliance for themselves. They have managed to obtain a sample of the Tok'ra symbiote poison and are preparing to mass produce it. They have managed to lay their hands on a Goa'uld vessel, and they will use it to deliver the poisonous cargo to a number of targets. The information our informant obtained indicated that the vessel in question possess a cloaking field and that it is somewhere within the solar system. The Trust apparently has access to a _Star_-class long range scout and they are using this ship to drop off cargo and personnel to the Goa'uld vessel."

"This is most disturbing, Director Krycek. Fortunately, the IDB had not sold a large number of _Star_-class vessels, so tracking them should be relatively easy. Locating the cloaked vessel is your top priority for the moment. The reason the Tok'ra abandoned research into the symbiote poison was that it is an indiscriminate killer, targeting Goa'uld, Jaffa, and Tok'ra symbiotes."

"I will assign a team to track down that vessel, sirs. That is all I have for the moment."

"Very well. General Sheridan. Your report please."

"Yes. Our new strike teams have now completed two planetary campaigns. The first, on the planet of Duat, where Anubis had a number of shipyards. These shipyards are now in our control, and the population of Duat has formed a temporary government and asked for Protectorate status.

"The second liberated world is called Aaru. The particular planet was an agricultural one, providing food for other planets in Anubis' empire. There are, perhaps, twenty thousand inhabitants on the planet, and all of them are descendants of a native American tribe called Zuni. The have also formed a temporary government and have requested Protectorate status. Additionally, Aaru produced not only food for Anubis, but also the black uniform clothing for Kulls, and the chain mail armor for Jaffa, along with the various hand-held weapons associated with those two soldier types. The leader of the freed population, Tanar, has agreed on behalf of his people to continue producing the Kull armor for our own troopers, in exchange for more modern methods of agricultural production. They will also export a number of food stuffs only to member worlds of the Alliance."

"Well done, General Sheridan. Admiral Constantine has recommended, and this committee agrees, that you and your strike teams will be placed at once on leave. Your have two weeks to rest and relax, before your next mission."

"And what is our next mission?"

"Tartarus."

"Has the committee given any thought as to whether I will be allowed to recruit more teams?"

"We have. You have full authority, at this time, to recruit a full regiments' worth of teams. Twenty-two hundred personnel, including pilots for your deployment craft. The Alliance likes very much the idea of small strike teams, and so we are going full ahead with construction of more _Saber_-class vessels, and with the carrier vessel you recommended. Please meet with Dr. Mitchell Guerra of the IDB to finalize the plans for the carrier vessel."

"Thank you sirs."

"Is there anything else, General?"

"Not at this time."

"Dismissed."

----------------------------------------

_**Later that day**_

_**Office of the President**_

"Come in Sheridan, come in. Congratulations on your first two operations. They were resounding successes or so I'm told."

"It helps to have good people on the teams."

"I would imagine so. So, how can I be of assistance?"

"As I said on the link earlier, I'm trying to get some background on one of my troopers. Her abilities in the field left me speechless. She moves with an uncommon grace and speed, her sight and hearing are beyond anything I have ever seen. Yet all I can find on her is her prison record. Everything else is classified. I thought that perhaps…"

"You thought perhaps I might have access?"

"I'm hoping you do, sir."

"Let's take a look then. Her name?"

"Faith Lehayne."

"Give me a second or two. Hmm, very odd. Apparently I don't have access either. Let's try this another way then."

Marius started 'dialing' a number of buttons on the video phone link in front of him. A few moments later a woman answered.

"May I help you sir?"

"President Ramos for Director Foley."

"One moment sir. Yes sir, let me connect your call."

"Foley."

"Mr. Director."

"How may I be of assistance, Mr. President?"

"I'm sitting here with General Jacob Sheridan, commander of our Ranger Strike Teams. He attempted to get access to some records and has been told these records are classified. So I tried the same thing and got the same result. I wonder, if you could access those records for us?"

"What sort of records?"

"We'd like to see the personnel file for a young woman that is a member of a team. Faith Lehayne."

"Lehayne? Sure, let me see what I can find. Hmm, that's odd. I don't have access? What the hell? Subject is a 'Slayer'. Approach with extreme caution? Let me get back to you, Mr. President."

"Sure."

----------------------------------------

"Bretano."

"Mr. Secretary, Director Foley. I need some information."

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Access to something called the 'Initiative' and their files on something called the 'Slayer'."

"Let me see if I can get that on my terminal. Huh? I think this thing has blown a fuse. It says I have no access?"

"Same thing I got over here. Can you check into that for me?"

"I'll get someone on it right now."

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"You asked to see me, Mr. Secretary?"

"General Moore, Director Foley at CIA asked me to help him access a file. I tried, but apparently I don't have access. Perhaps as Chairman of the JCS, you do have access?"

"Let me borrow your terminal for a bit. Which file do you need, sir?"

"The file on something Director Foley called the 'Initiative' and their records on the 'Slayer'."

"No need to access that one sir. I was fully briefed in when I got bumped to Chairman. Back then, I thought it was a joke, at least until I learned about the SGC, then, well, I guess it isn't a joke."

"Why don't I have access?"

"I'm sure it's just an oversight, sir. But the project was cancelled some years ago. The stated goal of the Initiative was to create weapons for dealing with demonic life forms, including, vampires, werewolves, various demons, ghosts, and generally the things that go bump in the night. But the project head decided to stray from that to create a super soldier made from human and non human parts. Needless to say, the project was terminated."

"You have got to be shitting me. No wonder it's classified. If the public ever found out we were doing stupid shit like that, we'd all be out of a job."

"Stupid or not, it is the complete truth. The Slayer is a person, always a young woman, who has some genetic gifts. The legend, as I understand it, states 'In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.'"

"Uhm."

"It gets better sir. As I said, the Slayer is born with genetic gifts. Extreme levels of strength, stamina, speed, enhanced senses, rapid healing, and supposedly the gift of prophecy. Except for the prophecy part, I dare say that a Slayer sounds very much like an Immortal."

"Is it alright to pass this information along to them? The Immortals, I mean. They're the ones who initiated this request. Apparently, they have a Slayer on one of the new Ranger teams."

"If half of what I've read about Slayers is true, then the Goa'uld are toast."

"Let's hope so, General Moore. Next topic. What did General Diggs have to say about the equipment the Alliance loaned him for the assault on Aaru?"

"He wanted to know if those vehicles were going to be made available to the US military any time soon. In his words, 'I've got to get me one of these!'"

"What's your take on those new vehicles?"

"The phaser tank has a top speed right around one-twenty kph. The artillery is a little slower at ninety-five kph, and the APCs are faster at one-forty, but that's a similar enough problem to what we have now. The APCs can defend themselves pretty darn well with the rail gun turret. One round can penetrate the heaviest armor on most modern battle tanks. With a few armored divisions, the US will be the defacto world leader in military power. Add in the fact, that the phaser weapons can also be set to stun infantry targets, and you have one hell of a force deterrent."

"And the new helicopter?"

"Actually sir, it's just an updated helicopter. Would you believe the original prototype was built in the 1980s here in the US? It was. And it was used by one of our intelligence agencies for close on twenty years before they accidentally met one of the Immortals who introduced them to President Augustus. The IDB got together with that agency and the result is the helicopter that's now fielded with all Alliance ground forces. I had to see it to believe it, but the damned bird has a top speed of just over Mach two point five."

"No helo can fly that fast!"

"This one does. And General Diggs wants to replace all of the equipment in 1st Armored with the units he had on Aaru. He's asked to stay on for the next campaign."

"I'll get together with the President. Maybe he can ask the IDB to cut us a good discount."

"They're worth the price sir."

"Noted."

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_**Luna**_

_**Lehayne Residence**_

Faith had been back on Luna just a few days. Her last mission with her team mates to Aaru had been a long one and her deepest desire as she walked into her one bedroom apartment on Luna was to either soak for hours in a tub, or sleep for a week. One sniff of her pits, and she decided on the long soak. Now, a couple of days later, she was getting bored with the life of leisure. She wanted action. That's what Slayers were born for. She decided to check her mail and was pleasantly surprised to find a note from B. She wrote back pretty quickly.

"_B. I'm doing pretty good, thanks for asking. Say Hi to everyone for me. Life here is a lot better than that prison cell I was in. Here, I'm part of a team. I volunteered for service with the Alliance Rangers. I've gotten to know my team mates pretty well over the last few missions. Three weeks on Duat and two weeks on Aaru. I always wanted to see the world, and now I'm getting to see the galaxy. _

_My CO (that's Commanding Officer, B) is pretty cool. He doesn't stand on ceremony or rank when we're in the field. He's a General, by the way. General Jake Sheridan. He's also an Immortal. A young one, or so I've been told. He's only one-seventy-four! He said he'd been in every war and police action the US took part in, starting with the, as he calls it, the war for Southern Independence. _

_I hope all is well with you. _

_Faith."_

A few hours later, her console chirped with a reply.

"_Faith. I'm glad you're doing well. Dawnie says Hello. We're all hanging in there. After the collapse of the Sunnydale Hellmouth, well, it's been a hell of a year. Rebuilding the Watcher's Council, training the potentials. Xander is in Cleveland, with a few Slayers, watching over that Hellmouth. As much as my life has changed, it seems it's always the same. I'm glad to hear that you feel like you belong somewhere. Just remember, fucking your boss isn't a good thing. It can be, but well, never mind. Gotta run now. Write back soon._

_Luv Ya. B."_

Just as she finished reading that short note from Buffy, her console chirped again.

"Lehayne. My quarters are on Sub-level 5, East corridor, number thirty-six. Dinner is at eight. Sheridan."

So he hadn't forgotten after all, thought Faith. The appointed time was still several hours away and suddenly Faith felt the need to buy something slinky and sexy.

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_**Office of the President**_

"So, Jake. She's a Slayer. Sounds like you've got a real winner on your hands."

"I knew there was something different about her sir. Damn, but she's a good fighter. Can we recruit more like her?"

"Your best bet is to ask her, I'd guess."

"I think I'll do that, sir. Thanks for the info, sir."

"You're welcome. I expect to see a plan for the attack on Tartarus in a couple days time."

"It'll be ready sir."

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_**Luna**_

_**2000 Hours**_

_**Residence of Jake Sheridan**_

To say that Jake's taste in décor was eclectic was to say that the moon was gray. But the same could be said of any Immortal, with at least a century of life. He had a room where his history came alive, from the Confederate uniform he once wore, to the crossed sabres on display. From the Confederate era Enfield muskets, to the WWII Enfield carbines, his was a history of warfare. And it was into this room that Sheridan led Faith on a quick tour of his quarters.

"Damn! You've got a lot of stuff in here! My quarters aren't even a tenth as large!"

"Rank hath it's privileges, or so I'm told."

"So, what's for dinner?"

"Slow roasted _cabrito_, with rice and a side of salad."

"Not sure what 'cabrito' is, but it sounds good."

"I'll tell you afterwards what you ate, ok?"

"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret dinner?"

"Nonsense. It's a rare occasion that I get to cook for so lovely a dinner companion."

What Jake was thinking however was that her barely there dress was made for her alone. A dress like that could make him want her, and he did want her, but doing so would break so many rules and regulations that he quickly chased the thought away with designs and plans for Tartarus.

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_**Tartarus**_

In Greek mythology, Tartarus was a place lower than Hades. The planet itself was not as bad as the name implied, but a direct assault through its Stargate would send a lot of good men and women to their deaths prematurely. The Stargate was on a heavily guarded platform directly in front of the Palace of Anubis, guarded by Kulls. Removing the planet from the domain of Anubis would mean crippling his ability to produce Kull warriors. So it became a prime target for the Alliance.

Anubis, on the other hand, was growing tired of the victories claimed by the Alliance. First, his shipyards at Erebus and Duat had fallen, reducing his ability to create more ships by ninety percent. Then they had captured Osiris and taken Aaru, the world that supplied food to his growing empire, and uniforms for his Kull Warriors. It was time to put an end to the threat of the Alliance.

At the same time that the Alliance was launching a mission to capture Tartarus, Anubis was launching a massive force to destroy the Alliance in the Sol system. He had erred before, in sending only six of the Cylon _Basestar_s to that system. Now, that the Cylon reinforcements had arrived from the Cylon home world, he could launch a massive attack that would bring the Alliance to its knees, and seal his fate as conqueror of the universe.

The fleet that launched from Tartarus to Sol was massive. Four hundred Cylon _Basestar_s, four hundred _Ha'tak_s, and several hundred more _Al'kesh_, all of them commanded by his flagship. Anubis had spent centuries searching for the Imperial Eyes, the key to his new super weapon. The Eye of Ra had been among the last, found on a desolate, empty world that had once been a part of Ra's domain. The weapon fired a beam, that upon striking a target, would ricochet off to another target, bouncing around again and again until it was at last depleted of strength. But each time it hit a ship or fighter, the result was pure devastation.

The few fleet vessels that launched from Sol for the attack on Tartarus would make little or no difference in the coming battle for Sol. Two _Saber_-class frigates and a _Jeep_-class escort carrier were sent to Tartarus; the _Yuri Gagarin_, the _Vladimir Komarov_, and the _Langley_. The vessels were in orbit and cloaked over the planet of Tartarus and minutes away from starting their mission, when the emergency fleet channel beeped for attention.

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_**Independence Station**_

All was quiet for the moment. Three ships had departed some hours ago on a new mission, and of course, there were ships in the system, but it was all normal and routine, until the deep space tracking array began picking up the first incoming ships. Sensor Chief Smythson felt like it was déjà vu. The sense that he'd been through this before. One look at the readings was all it took for him to press the panic button.

"What have you got Chief?"

"A whole damned pisspot full of ships! Deep space array is showing at least six hundred ships on an incoming vector. Database reads them as Cylon _Basestar_s and Goa'uld _Ha'tak_s. No IFF detected."

"Oh fuck!"

The duty officer wasted no time in forwarding the sensor data to the appropriate commands. From a dozen openings on the station, defense platforms spilled out into the inky blackness of space. Every ship in the system was instructed to activate their IFF transponders or risk being shot down. The two Battle Groups in system jumped into hyperspace, along with all of the Allied _Ha'tak_s, to await targeting data from the fighters in the system. So many ships incoming. They had to use every trick they knew to even the odds. Earth governments were quickly notified, and at dozens of air fields around the planet, newly produced SA-43 _Hammerhead_ fighters began warming up. The entire planet went to Condition Red.

----------------------------------------

_**Yuri Gagarin**_

"General Sheridan to the bridge!"

Sheridan heard the call as he and his teams were loading up into the _Danube_ IIs that would take them down to the planet. Two _Saber_s had been dispatched to Tartarus, each with four strike teams. Eighty people to take over a planet. Sheridan turned for the nearest comms panel and contacted the bridge.

"Sheridan here. Something wrong Captain?"

"We've just received flash traffic from Alliance HQ. We're here preparing to attack Anubis, and Anubis is on his way to Sol. At top speed, it would still take us the better part of six hours to reach Earth. As mission commander, the decision rests with you, sir."

"How many ships attacking Sol?"

"The message indicated well over six hundred."

"Holy shit! That must be his entire fleet!"

"Probably close to it."

"Well, we did wonder why there weren't more ships here. I guess that answers that question."

"What do you want to do, sir?"

"Deploy the _Danube_ IIs as planned. As soon as we get to the surface, you and the _Komarov_ and the _Langley_ are to proceed at best possible speed back to Earth. God speed, Captain Scully."

"Understood, General Sheridan. Luck."

"I have a feeling we're all gonna need it."

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_**Elsewhere**_

"Q. My children did as you asked. Now I require your assistance."

"Ask away. I could always say no."

"I would have contacted the Vorlons directly, but they seem to have passed beyond."

"It was their time. It happens even to the most primitive."

"So, can you help?"

"I'll do better than that. As a favor. Though I might eventually have to ask for one in return."

"From a Q, I would expect no less."

"I think that was an insult, but never mind. What you require will be there when needed."

"Thank you, Q."

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_**Sol**_

The enemy fleet was still a few light minutes out. Less than two hundred fighters, mostly _Mustang_s and _Thunderbolt_s, were arrayed in the inner system. The asteroid field had been heavily mined with Narn designed energy mines, and Klingon designed gravity mines. The former to drain a target of its energy and the latter to disrupt its own gravitational field, making it gain in mass and making the engines work harder to overcome the added mass.

Over Luna, Mars, and Earth, the Defense Satellite network activated, sensors were constantly sending out targeting sweeps, allowing the fighters to remain blind to enemy sensor nets. Marius was not in his office. He was not on the _Halsey_, as that ship now belonged to Robert de Valicourt. He was not in a fighter or aboard any of the ships of the fleet. He was in the command center on _Indy_, helping to direct the fight. He stood next to General Hammond, following Hammond's lead for this, hopefully, final fight.

There was a flash of intense white light, much like an Asgard transporter beam, but instead of an Asgard, there was this strange man in what looked like a red with black trim jumpsuit. Hammond looked at Marius for a moment, before Marius spoke.

"Q!"

"Greetings, young Ancient."

"Well, there goes the neighborhood."

"I've come with some assistance. Yes, I can see the enemy force closing on Earth. Arrogant little shit, that Anubis. I think it's high time a being like myself taught him a lesson."

"What are you going on about Q?"

"Anubis is half ascended. Apparently he was too evil to remain as an ascended being. He is one of my type of species. Omnipotent and all powerful. You helped my favorite pet humans in my neck of the woods, so I'm here to return the favor."

Q snapped his fingers and several people appeared on the deck, along with several ships in the space near the station.

"Q! What is the meaning of this!"

"Picard! Still the overbearing human I like. And Kathy. So lovely. Always a pleasure to see you two."

"Captain Picard. Admiral Janeway. I had not thought I'd ever see you two again."

"Admiral Ramos? Where are we?"

"You are onboard _Independence Station_, in Earth Orbit. As Q so nicely put it only a moment ago, we helped you out, now it's your turn to help us out."

"Help you out how?"

"Well, from the looks of the monitors, Q has brought along a few ships for that purpose."

"Q? You might want to get the commanders of the Romulan, Klingon, Borg, and Cardassian vessels over here as well. Just so I don't have to repeat myself too many times."

"Ah, but I'm not done just yet."

There was another burst of light, and three more ships appeared in orbit near the station. Another snap of the fingers and four more people appeared on the command deck.

"Now that we are all assembled here, you may begin, mon Admiral."

"Uhm, thanks. I think. Well, you all know who I am, as I was only recently in your universes. Apparently, the powers that be have decided that since we helped you with a particular situation, that it is time you repaid the favor. Most of your ships I am familiar with, some I am not. Rather than spend the next few precious minutes learning that, let me tell you what we are facing. Ten light minutes out is a formidable array of enemy vessels. Our current estimate is six hundred battleships, with an as yet undetermined amount of lesser support vessels.

"From the current distance, we can clearly see two vessel types, the _Ha'tak_, and the _Basestar_. The Goa'uld _Ha'tak_ class is a generic name given to a wide range of vessels. Typically, the vessels have several anti-ship weapons that fire a mass of high energy plasma. This same weapon is also used for planetary bombardment. The vessel also carries some three hundred fighters, and a few dozen _Al'kesh_ class mid range bombers. It is home to several thousand Jaffa warriors.

"The Cylon _Basestar_ also carries three hundred fighters, along with several hundred anti-fighter turrets, and two Mega-pulsar cannons, one at the top-most point on the dorsal side, one at the lowest point on the ventral side. Don't be fooled by the fact that the Cylon vessels have little or no shielding. These ships have several meters of laser ablative armor and their two primary weapons can cut through several meters of hull in one go. An unshielded ship meeting such a beam is in extreme danger, while a shielded ship will fare somewhat better. I see three distinct Federation vessel types out there; _Sovereign_, _Intrepid_, and _Steam_ _Runner_. Knowing the capabilities of those vessels, my recommendation would be to leave the _Steam_ _Runners_ here with the station to provide long range fire, and allow the _Sovereign_ and the three _Intrepids_ to move in and about the enemy fleet as a unit.

"Admiral Sela, Gul Tinkar, and Chancellor Martok. Your vessels are designed for ship to ship fighting. My suggestion would be to do the same as the Federation ships. I'll leave you alone to figure out your tactics. Borg. What is your designation?"

"Tactical Commander Katal of the Borg Confederacy. You are the Ancient."

"Well, one of the Ancients, in any case. How are your ships configured, Katal?"

"Long range Klingon type disruptors and long range tri-cobalt torpedo launchers."

"Excellent. Would you stay with the station as part of our defense fleet?"

"We will do as is required."

"Now, Captain Sheridan. It is good to see you again. Though I wish the circumstances were different."

"They are what they are. And it's President, now, not Captain."

"Well, congratulations. I see two Minbari _Sharlin_-class War Cruisers, and…what is that thing?"

"_That_ is an Earth Force _Warlock_-class Heavy Destroyer. Susan Ivanova is her Captain. Marcus Cole is her XO."

"Looks formidable. Have you managed to integrate the shield tech we left you?"

"The _Warlock_ has only deflector shielding for space debris, but the _Sharlin_s have full shields now. We will work together as a team unit. The line is here and the enemy will not cross it."

"Thanks, Mr. President."

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_**Tartarus**_

"Strike lead, Five actual."

"Go ahead, Five."

"Target in sight. Team hunkered down for the fireworks. Ready to go."

"Roger that. Break. All teams, stand by for fireworks."

Fireworks. Now there was a term that could have pleasant connotations. The _Danube_ II vessels had deposited the strike teams on the surface of Tartarus. Sixteen strike vehicles had moved out. These units were fast, but had almost no armor, and only minimal shielding. But they were armed, and they did have the new Kull warrior killer weapons aboard. The units were arranged in groupings of two, one strike team per pair of vehicles, and the plan was to hit the Command Palace from as may directions as possible, so as to try and overwhelm the defenders.

"Strike lead, Support actual."

"Go ahead."

"Standing by for words to commence run."

"Alpha Strike is a go. Repeat, Go."

"Confirmed. Better get undercover, Strike leader."

For the few Jaffa that had remained behind on Tartarus, the far off whine in the night sky meant nothing to them. A ship that had encountered difficulties and was coming in for emergency repairs, perhaps. No one was fool enough to attack Anubis on his home world. No one was fool enough to attack a God.

As the whine in the sky grew closer, some of the Jaffa looked up. As the small ships grew close enough to identify with the unaided eye, a single Jaffa turned to press a button on a nearby alarm panel. A beam lanced out and struck him, vaporizing him instantly, but missing his weapon. Said weapon landed squarely on the alarm panel. Fortunately, the next phaser blast cut through the hardened communications lines, and preventing the triggered alarm from being heard in other parts of the Palace. Not that the Jaffa there didn't already know something bad was happening. It would be pretty hard to miss, especially with the sudden appearance of a few dozen photon torpedoes overhead.

New reports filtered in sporadically and slowly to the few Jaffa trusted with command in the pel'tac. Anubis had left behind as local defense only two hundred Jaffa, mostly the youngest recruits, and those with very little training, along with two Kull Warriors. One of the exploding photon warheads had been of the Kull-killer variety, and the two Kulls were effectively removed from the battle before the ground forces could engage them. The remaining Jaffa fought hard, but not for very long. The Zat blasts and phasers fired on stun, knocked out the vast majority of them leaving only a token resistance for the strike teams to fight off. In less than an hour, Tartarus was under Alliance control. Sheridan would report it if he could, but at the moment, the fate of the Alliance in general and of Earth in particular was in the hands of someone else.

-----------------------------------------

_**Sol System**_

_**ETA Enemy fleet**_

_**3 Light minutes**_

The forces in Earth space were as ready as they could be. On Earth, fighters were in the air, and civilian aircraft around the world had been given orders to proceed to the nearest airfield and land as soon as possible. For the most part, that order worked well enough, except for the unfortunate few who happened to be on trans-oceanic flights. There were only so many airports in the middle of nowhere that could take the bigger airliners.

EAS _Titans_ had eighty thousand ground pounders aboard, a full compliment for the ship. Earth had called into duty every available military unit already on active status, just in case the enemy managed to land troops someplace, but a company here or there to protect a city was asking just too much. President Sheridan offered the use of the Gropos wherever they were needed the most. Fifteen thousand men, women, and their equipment found themselves being whisked away in beams of white light to major national capitols on Earth. Washington, DC., Moscow, Paris, London, Beijing. The five permanent members of the UN Security Council. Five thousand Gropos were kept in reserve aboard the _Titans_, to supplement the forces on the ground wherever they were needed.

----------------------------------------

_**One Light Minute**_

The Goa'uld under Lord Yu had brought with them a fleet of six hundred ships and had arrived at the end of the first battle for Sol. There weren't that many available now. Ships were on patrol between Earth and Langara, and Earth and Tollana. Ships were in orbit over Duat and Aaru, supplementing the fire power available to the Support Groups. Ships were on their way to Tartarus to support the planned invasion there and were unreachable. And some ships, had been lost in skirmishes with the Cylons. The force that remained in Sol space numbered less than a hundred _Ha'tak_s. Though it pained Hammond to do so, he requested those vessels divide equally over Earth and Mars to lend their support to the defenses there. Luna would only have the three dozen remaining _Al'kesh_ to help defend her.

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_**Contact**_

There were enemy ships in the system. Lots of them. Lots and lots and lots of them. It wasn't six hundred combined ships. Targeting sensors were still trying to catch up to what the sensors were indicating, but for the moment, they showed four hundred _Ha'tak_s, and four hundred _Basestar_s, along with at least five hundred _Al'kesh_. The only thing the Alliance had in its favor was that all orders seemed to be coming from one massive command ship at the back of the formation. No doubt in anyone's mind that this particular ship belonged to Anubis.

Anubis had the arrogant gall to send a message on all known frequencies to Earth. It was picked up by the fleet first, but it did end up being seen on Earth.

"People of the Tau'ri. The Goa'uld gave you civilization. We gave you science, mathematics, writing, and law. Had we not, you would still serve us rightfully as our slaves. Now, we will take these things from you. You will be destroyed. Jaffa! Kree! Destroy the Tau'ri!"

It happened slowly at first, but pretty much everyone on the planet had seen the yards tall apparition appear all over the world, in thousands of cities and small hamlets.

"You see that, Misha? I will not go quietly in my bed. I will fight! Join me Misha. Let us save our homes from this devil!"

"I will join you Sasha."

----------------------------------------

"What do you think, Chu?"

"I think that I will fight with whatever I am able to fight with, be it my hands or a club."

"Then I will do so as well."

----------------------------------------

"Whatcha gonna do Jonnie?"

"I'm gonna grab my hunting rifle and head down to city hall. I've a mind to keep what's mine. And I aim to protect it, even if I have to die trying. Better to die free than be a slave."

"I'm wit ya Jonnie!"

----------------------------------------

And the scene repeated itself in every city and country. The common folk, moving out from what they believed to be safe homes to take to the streets to fight for what they all believed in; freedom. The freedom to chose how to live their lives as they saw fit to live them.

"All ships, this is _Independence_ Station. Weapons are free. Repeat. Weapons are free."

The first ships to fire were those that had the range to target the enemy at this distance. And the first of these long range ships was the _Appalachia_, firing four bursts of four torpedoes each, with each weapon targeted on a different Cylon vessel. The fire rate was one torpedo per second. The range was still too great for those ships to fire their Mega-pulsar cannons with any sort of effectiveness.

Anubis watched with little concern as the pulsating beacons covered the short distance between fleets. Sensors aboard his ship indicated the weapons were traveling at just under the speed of light. Surely such small devices could not harm one of the ships of his fleet? And then they impacted on the Cylon vessels.

Using targeting data borrowed from the Colonials, the _Appalachia_ had pinpointed the exact detonation point for maximum effectiveness. Vent portals, where excess heat was drained into space from the very powerful and very large reactors aboard the ships. It was a design flaw that even the Cylons knew about and so they were protected with multiple banks of anti-fighter turrets, but the weapons were traveling to fast for the turrets to obtain a lock and all the fired pulses flew to points far behind the weapons. The other thing that neither the Cylons nor Anubis was aware of was the fact that the torpedoes had built in guidance units, that were able to twist and turn through the superstructures of the Cylon vessels to impact squarely on the vent portals and travel a few meters into the vessel before detonating.

In a space of less than a minute, sixteen Cylon _Basestar_s had been rendered into just so much space dust and expanding gas. Anubis was enraged by the event.

"Jaffa! Open fire with all weapons!"

"But my Lord, at this distance we will be lucky to hit anything!"

"Then close the distance to the Tau'ri! This slaughter of our fleet must not go unanswered!"

"Yes, my Lord!"

Anubis looked out onto the field of battle once again. He was safe in the knowledge that his command ship was far enough behind the vanguard of the fleet so as to be untouchable. The small vessel above the large station continued to spit out the pulsating globs of death at his fleet, and he knew now that more of his fleet would die, but there would be more than enough ships to overwhelm the Tau'ri. Surely the small vessel would not have an endless supply of such weapons?

Anubis was right in that point. The _Appalachia_ only had forty-eight of the tri-cobalt torpedoes, and those had been destined for decommissioning, as they had been outlawed by the Khitomer Accords. The tri-cobalt warheads were classed under the treaty as subspace weapons, though a few ships still carried them, mostly because they had been long forgotten in the ships' stores. Three more waves of the weapons came in and then the vessel was strangely silent for a moment. It was enough to close the distance by half and allow the various vessels of Anubis' fleet to open fire.

The _Appalachia_ had run through its stock of tri-cobalt torpedoes and was in the process of loading the remaining quantum and photon torpedoes left aboard; only forty such rounds left. Still they would continue to pump out the rounds at one per second into the oncoming fleet until they were completely dry of the torpedoes and had to rely solely on their phasers.

But at the point in time where that vessel began pumping out standard quantum and photon torpedoes, they were joined by the other vessels from their universe. _Enterprise_ was, however, reserving their small stock of transphasic torpedoes for a closer shot at the very massive command ship at the rear of the fleet. The Federation ships were joined by Klingon, Cardassian, and Romulan ships, all firing their own version of the venerable photon torpedo at the enemy fleet. The three Borg Spheres had yet to take a shot. They had jumped to high warp for a long slingshot manoeuvre around the enemy fleet to come in from behind. They dropped from warp at something close to point blank range and unloaded all of the torpedoes in their stocks, before jumping back to high warp to rejoin the station defense fleet.

Anubis fumed that these primitive Tau'ri could score so many hits unanswered in so short a time. But something that was as yet unnoticed by him was the fact that the ships in the defending fleet were not Tau'ri in origin, and the Alliance vessels were nowhere to be seen as yet. But the Cylons were aware of this fact, if only because they had no Battlestars on their sensors.

As the fleet closed the distance even more, a Jaffa shouted for his master's attention.

"My Lord! Unidentified anomalies forming throughout the fleet!"

"Show me!"

Anubis had ordered the fleet to close distance with one another so as to maximize their effective killing power against the waves of fighters the Tau'ri were sure to send. It might have been an effective counter to the fighters, but it proved a costly mistake as hyperspace jump portals opened up throughout his fleet and ships came out, firing as they went. The massive energies released by the forced opening of a portal from normal space to hyperspace incinerated everything in their path. If a ship happened to be in that path, well, so much for that ship. Where the energies touched hull armor, said armor simply disappeared. Such were the intense energies of the hyperspace portals. Anubis had never seen such portals, even when he had been among the Ancients.

These portals, to what his sensors indicated was a lower level of hyperspace, were tearing into the fleet with alarming accuracy. The fleet was disappearing in ever increasing numbers and it was all he could do to order the fleet to disperse to prevent multiple ships from meeting this new fate.

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_**Tartarus**_

The Palace was in the hands of the Alliance, and there were some sixty-odd Jaffa prisoners, all in chains, awaiting a representative from the Jaffa Rebel Command to come down with the first occupation ground force. Sheridan had placed a strike team at the Stargate to watch over it and to defend against an off-world incursion. One of the teams, on a search of the Palace had found tanks for Goa'uld symbiotes and a Goa'uld Queen heavy with more symbiotes. They'd placed the queen in a stasis chamber so that the Tok'ra could produce more of the vital tretonin that took the place of infant Goa'uld larvae in the pouches of Jaffa warriors. Until such time as the medical research teams on Luna could synthesize the process, the tretonin would have to come from the symbiotes.

"Strike Lead, Four lead."

"Go ahead Four."

"Gate's activating. Something is coming through."

"Prepare to repel invaders!"

But what came through the active gate wasn't invaders. It was a missile. A cruise missile. According to one of the _Danube_ II pilots, it was a Tomahawk cruise missile. Everyone dove for cover, praying that their own personal shields would save their butts. But they needn't have worried. The missile didn't have an explosive payload. It had a nerve agent aboard. A gaseous mass descended over the Palace, coming in through open windows and doors. It spread quickly, and the members of the strike teams said quick mental goodbyes at the inevitable.

But it was the Jaffa that died, not them. The strike team members were all unharmed, yet every last one of the Jaffa were dead. They just dropped where they stood, or fell over where they were seated. All but the Queen, who was safely tucked into a stasis chamber awaiting transport.

"Baker Actual, Baker Actual, strike lead."

"Problem, strike leader?"

"A missile just came through the gate. It dispersed a toxin. All of the Jaffa prisoners we had in chains are now dead. We need a HazMat team down here, pronto!"

"Ah, roger that. Sending one now."

The decontamination team arrived within ten minutes, and within thirty minutes had determined two things. One, that none of the members of the strike teams were infected with anything at all, and two, that the symbiotes in the Jaffa had died first. A quick blood test indicated the presence of the Tok'ra developed symbiote poison. Sheridan doubted that the Tok'ra would launch such a thing as they knew full well that a strike team had been deployed to this world.

"Lehayne, you got your GDO with you?"

"Yup. Right here. You want me to dial the SGC?"

"That's right."

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_**Earth**_

_**SGC**_

"Unscheduled incoming wormhole!"

"Security teams to the Gate room!"

"Who is it Sergeant?"

"Receiving Alliance IDC."

"_SGC actual, Alliance strike actual_."

"Alliance unit. Identify yourself."

"_General Jake Sheridan. Ranger unit One_."

"General Sheridan. All of the ranking officers are involved with the defense of Earth at the moment. This is Major Davis. Something I can do for you?"

"_I need to come through, with my team. We have a body that we need examined on the double. Standby to receive infectious corpse_."

"Standing by."

"_HazMat team to the Gate room! Medical team to the Gate room!"_

"Door's open, General. Come on through."

"Roger. Coming through."

All of the members of Sheridan's team were experience soldiers. All had been off-world on at least three occasions, but this was a first for all of them. Gate travel. What a rush!

"Major Davis, I presume?"

"General Sheridan. What happened?"

"We took Tartarus. It's under Alliance control now. But after we'd secured the objective, the Gate opened and a missile came through. A Tomahawk missile. It dispersed some kind of airborne toxin that the medical crew from the _Thomas Baker_ identified as Tok'ra symbiote poison."

"That's not possible. There are only two samples of that particular poison. One is in Tok'ra hands. The other is at Area 51. We sure as hell wouldn't launch a missile to a world where an Alliance team was fighting. I'm fairly certain the Tok'ra wouldn't either."

"Well, that missile came from somewhere."

"Excuse me a moment, sir. I'm needed in the control room."

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"Davis, how goes the battle?"

"It's bad, Sheridan. Anubis showed up on our doorstep with eight hundred ships."

"Fuck me in the heart!"

"Heavy losses?"

"Surprisingly light, actually. Are you rated on any fighters?"

"Barely. I mean, I can fly one, but I'm not so sure about fighting in one."

"Did any of the pilots assigned to your unit come back with you?"

"Negative."

"We've got a single _Peregrine_ class fighter on the deck at Petersen. It a prototype; a test-bed for new technologies. But all of our pilots are already committed in battle."

"Lehayne, you up for a quick flight?"

"Always, Boss."

"How do we get to Petersen?"

"I have a helo up top. Anything you need, just ask."

"How about a quick lesson on the way to Petersen? For my gunner, that is."

"I think we can do that. Luck, Sheridan."

"I'm gonna need it. Hell, we're all gonna need it."

The _Peregrine_ in question was a prototype. A test-bed craft for new weapons technologies. It sported a single turret at the rear of the craft, just above the impulse drives, of the rail gun variety. Gone were the micro-photon torpedo launchers in the wings. Instead, the designers had placed two different beam weapons in the wing roots to determine which one the test pilots preferred more. Pulse disruptors were matched against pulse phasers. In the nose, the designers had placed one small Shadow Slicer beam. Though it didn't have the power of its larger version, it still had more power than either of the two in the wings. It also sported a retractable pair of rotary launchers, which could carry any missile in the current US inventory, but these launchers were getting a new missile at the moment. The last thing that had been placed into the fighter was the Colonial QSG, or Quantum Shift Generator.

"You Sheridan?"

"That's me. You got some flight suits for us?"

"Right this way."

"Are you one of the engineers on this project?"

"I am. You want a run down of the new systems?"

"That'd be nice."

"We took out the micro photon launchers in the wing roots and replaced them with pairs of pulse disruptor cannons and pulse phaser cannons. Outer pair on each wing is disruptor, inner pair is phaser. We added an auto-track, auto-engage turret above the rear impulse drives. Rail gun. Projectiles are armor piercing, and about one inch long. It's got a full load at the moment of six thousand rounds. The turret is set to fire in short bursts about fifty rounds to the burst."

"Sounds good so far. Anything else?"

"A few more things on it. The nose has been rebuilt to house a miniaturized version of the Shadow Slicer. Not as much power as the larger version, but significantly more power than the wing root weapons. But because of the power drain, we had to add in a couple extra generators just for the nose cannon. You'll be able to fire one full power shot every minute, or half power shots every thirty seconds. On either side of the Shadow beam emplacement, are single emitters for the Breen energy dampener. One shot should drain a target of shield energy long enough to allow a missile to get in. The fuselage was big enough that we were able to add two rotary launchers, that can be stowed inside the vessel and deployed whenever needed. Because of the placement, one in front of the other, obviously you would only deploy one or the other at any given time. In addition to the standard Ramos triple layer force shields, the Colonials let us borrow a QSG for this vessel."

"QSG?"

"Quantum Shift Generator. It will enable you to shift the fighter slightly out of phase with normal space. Because of the drain on the batteries, we designed the system to automatically phase shift, whenever shield power was at ten percent or less, or the weapons systems were either overheating or needed time to fully recharge. So watch the gauges on all of those systems and you should be alright. Last thing. The missiles that are being loaded are modified anti-fighter Venoms. The high explosive warhead has been replaced with a matter-anti matter shell surrounding a ball of compressed weapons grade naquadah, which in turn is surrounding an even smaller ball of plutonium."

"Ok, well, I don't know a lot about that, but I'm guessing it should make one hell of a bang?"

"Plutonium we have plenty of. Anti-matter we now have plenty of courtesy of your folks on Luna. The weapons grade naquadah is a bit harder to come by, but we had enough to build enough missiles to fully load both launchers. You have thirty-six of them, eighteen per launcher."

"That's all well and good, but how much of a bang are we talking here?"

"Best guess, cause we haven't dared test them on Earth, is just under a gigaton."

"Fuck me in the heart!"

"So, do be careful in watching how close you are to a target before you launch one. I'd suggest using them on the capital ships, and not on fighters."

"Sounds like a plan. Well Hell, I guess we're about as ready as we're gonna get. I'll pilot, you be my gunner, Lehayne."

"Got your back, sir."

"Good luck Sheridan."

"Hell man, if you've got me, an infantry General, flying a fighter, I'd say we all need a bit of luck today."

----------------------------------------

"Lehayne?"

"Boss?"

"I looked up your record when we were on Luna."

"And?"

"And it said you are a 'Slayer' but it didn't say what all that means."

"Why did you look up my record?"

"I've seen you in the field and I've seen you in the gym. You're fast, strong, and you have exceptional senses. I wanted to know more about you."

"You could have asked me."

"I'm asking now."

"The Goa'uld are parasites that pretend to be Gods. But there are other things out there. Vampires. Werewolves. Demons. A Slayer hunts those things and keeps them under control, keeps them from spreading too far and too fast."

"That's what I was told. But what I don't understand is why only women can be Slayers?"

"I have no idea. Maybe it's because women are more maternal? Because we have a higher sense of protectiveness?"

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm the one asking you."

"I never thought about it. Maybe the Watchers would know."

"Watchers? My assigned Watcher didn't know about Slayers. I know cause I asked if they had ever come across anything like Slayers."

"Your assigned Watcher?"

"All Immortals have a Watcher assigned to them. To record their history. Their mandate is to watch and record but never to interfere, though they sometimes do."

"Huh. Well, Slayers have a Watcher assigned to them as well. But the Watcher is also the trainer for all fighting techniques and also an advisor on all things supernatural."

"Well. Two different Watcher organizations. I wonder if one knows about the other?"

"Might be something to ask, if we get out of this alive."

"Speaking of which, you'd better have your game face on. That's an awful lot of enemy ships and fighters out there."

"Like I said, Boss, I've got your back. You do the flying, I'll do the fighting."

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_**Oort Cloud**_

The vessel was small and sleek. It radiated neither heat nor any sort of electrical emission. The system was new to them, but they had been picking up old style radio signals for days now. Always monitoring the signals, trying to discover remotely who it was that called this system, home. The vessel moved in sunward, toward the inner system, for some minutes, they'd been picking up increased chatter on the bands they'd identified as military in nature. Something big was happening. Something very big. They moved in closer until their sensor sweeps showed them exactly what was happening, real time. A very large Goa'uld fleet had come to this system and it was presently engaged in battle with what they supposed were forces from this system. They had no way of knowing who the defenders were, but they were powerful. The Aschen Confederation needed this intelligence. Obviously, there was a new player on the galactic block, and they seemed to be a powerful one.

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_**Earth Space**_

"_Indy_ Control, this is _Peregrine_ November X-Ray Queen Sierra Golf, standing by for tasking orders."

"_Peregrine_ November X-Ray, authenticate Lima Hotel."

"November X-Ray authenticates Alpha Sierra."

"Confirmed November X-Ray. Say state."

"Full load, guns and missiles."

"Roger that. Take up cover position on Federation vessel _Appalachia_. Vessel assigned as command and control for all Federation universe attack squadrons."

"Understood. Moving to comply."

The _Appalachia_ had expended all of her long range ordinance and so had effectively become a mobile control platform for the few Federation _Peregrine_ fighters that had come aboard some of the vessels. The other Federation _Peregrine_s looked at the Tau'ri _Peregrine_ and wondered if it were the same as theirs. Knowing the Tau'ri penchant for making changes to perfectly good machines, odds were it wasn't.

"_Appalachia_, _Peregrine_ November X-Ray."

"Yes?"

"We're loaded for bear. We want targets."

"Explain 'loaded for bear'."

"Never mind. Be advised, we're moving out to hunt. Luck to you, _Appalachia_."

"_Indy_ Control, _Appalachia_. Be advised, one of your Tau'ri _Peregrine_s is working for themselves."

"Understood. We'll deal with them. _Indy_ Control, out."

The _Peregrine_ phased into QSG and made a quick hyperspace jump to the far side of the system, well behind the enemy fleet. It stayed in QSG as it approached to within five thousand kilometers of Anubis' ship and its escorting _Ha'tak_s.

"Ok, Lehayne. Lock up two of those _Ha'tak_s, and make sure you use the Breen guns too."

"Targets locked. Missiles set to auto-fire once target shields are down."

"Ok. Phasing out of QSG. Shields at full strength, and rear turret on auto-track and auto-engage."

The _Peregrine_ flew towards the nearer of the _Ha'tak_s engaging them at short range with the Breen weapon which drained their shield energy completely before rippling off two missiles, one per target. The heavy fighter then peeled away out of weapons range and watched from a distance as the heavy missiles closed in for the kill. One was prematurely detonated a mere thousand feet from the hull of a _Ha'tak_ by a very lucky shot of plasma fire. But a thousand feet in this case was the same as a hit. The gigaton of explosive force lit up space all around them and incinerated the vessel, leaving nothing behind. The other targeted vessel shared the same fate within seconds of the first.

For the Alliance fighter squadrons, the first news that something was up came when the rear of the enemy formation lit up like a pair of small suns. No one knew exactly what had happened, except that something had gone bang in a big way. When it happened again and again and again, they felt joy, as it meant that many enemy fighters no longer had a mothership to call home. Hopefully, the fighter pilots thought, it meant that no new reinforcements would be coming from those big bangs out there. The escort _Ha'tak_s surrounding Anubis' ship had not launched any of their fighters at all, and now all were dead. Yet there was still a small ship out there, flitting to and from among the packed ranks of Anubis' vessels, taking shots at them, and making them wish they were elsewhere. Anubis screamed with outrage. A ship so small so as to be a mere insect to be swatted in annoyance, and yet it was causing him so much trouble!

"Jaffa, Kree! Send the _Rel'tac's_ into hyperspace to the far side of the accursed Tau'ri world. Order them to land and take as many cities as possible! We will force them to surrender to us!"

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_**Skies over Washington, DC**_

_**121st Fighter Squadron, F-16**_

"Bandits! Coming in hot! Angels sixteen!"

"I see them. Go tactical. Lock'em up!"

"Fox-3! Fox-3!"

"Damn! My missile had no effect! They must have shields!"

"Better warn the ground that a lot of troop transports are coming their way."

"Shit Hot, Bossman! We got fighters inbound!"

"Time to turn and burn, boys."

Four _Rel'tac_s had made it through the orbital defenses above this city. Four had landed and begun to disgorge the compliment of troops they had aboard. Six thousand Jaffa per transport, along with an assortment of heavy ground cannon for support to the advancing Jaffa cohorts. If all went according to their plan, they would have the President of the United States in their custody by day's end.

It was the sheer stupidity of the thing that startled the farmer the most. He'd heard the planes go racing overhead, and a few explosions what sounded like miles and miles away. He'd grabbed his gun, a surplus BAR his father had brought back from Korea. His father had taught him how to shoot it and how to care for it and feed it properly. There was a bag full of magazines hanging from a coat hook near the door, just like his daddy had drilled into him to do. This he grabbed as he walked slowly out to the deer blind he had along his fence line. From the higher vantage point of the blind, he could use the spotting scope to see the main road into town. But what he saw through the scope left him little room for doubt about the sheer stupidity of the thing.

There were men in armor. Marching in neat little columns and boxes, by foot, and with some pulling what looked like cannons, and headed towards the capitol city. He pulled out his trusty cell phone and quickly spread the word, to all farms near to this road. Then he waited, and when he thought he'd waited enough, he began to make his shots, setting the weapon on semi-auto, taking great pride in seeing single armored aliens drop by the side of the marching column as they were hit by his big 30-06.

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_**Strike Fighter Squadron 82 - Marauders**_

They were aloft, all of them, at last. The _Enterprise_ happened to be in her home port at Norfolk when word of the attack had come. The pilots of the Marauders had wanted to go up with the other units of their wing when the attack had started, but the CAG had held them back. Now, however, it was their turn to inflict some damage on the enemy. And some payback. A lot of their fellow pilots had been shot down, some literally blown up in their airplanes, by the enemy alien fighters, but still they had managed to trade one friendly pilot and plane for several of the enemy.

"Tallyho! I've got…what the hell! They're marching in a friggin' column? What kinda stupid alien fucks are they, anyways?"

"Hey, if they're that stupid, Chief, then maybe we should make it easier for them to meet one of their Gods?"

"I say we make it hard for them. Use the Mk. 82s. Ripple them off and lay 'em down in sticks. Let 'em meet their Gods in tiny little pieces!"

"Right behind ya, Chief!"

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_**Earth Space**_

The battlecruiser _Prometheus_ was a wreck, adrift in space. If she could be salvaged, her parts could be used for other less damaged ships, but she'd never be a part of the fleet again. She wasn't even in one piece. More like four or five pieces, floating loosely together. _Raleigh_ was cut in two. _Seattle_ was gone. The only thing left of the _Houston_ was a long strip of scorched metal that had once proudly been the name tag for the vessel. The four battlecruisers had been struck by Cylon Mega-pulsar fire intended for the _Halsey_. But as her four escorts fell, the four _Shark_-class missile escorts moved to the fore, pumping out weapons at the enemy fleet, and allowing their own shields to absorb hits meant for the large _Immortal_-class vessel.

_----------------------------------------_

_**Peregrine November X-Ray**_

It was all that Sheridan and Lehayne could do to fight the enemy in front of them. They'd already gone through eighteen missiles, accounting for eighteen _Ha'tak_s. The fleet assets protecting Anubis had fallen in the first few strikes and now the fighters assigned to his flagship were trying to kill this most pesky of Tau'ri vessels. The Jaffa pilots were finding, however, that being ordered to kill the vessel and killing it were two entirely different things. It had more power in the nose gun than most _Ha'tak_s, and the side cannons were just as powerful. The fighter even had a cannon covering its six o'clock position, something that no _Udajeet_ had. What was worse was that the small fighter seemed to phase in and out of space, allowing some shots to hit the fighter's shields, and others to pass through without hitting anything. It was a frustrating time to be a Jaffa pilot.

"Lehayne, start finding Cylon ships. Use what few missiles we have left on those."

"Then fly us towards the left. There's a big mess of them there."

"Your wish is my command, Lehayne."

"Hah! A girl could get used to that, sir!"

The small fighter made its way towards a large grouping of Cylon vessels. These Cylons might have been advanced as far as the average Tau'ri were concerned, but they didn't have shield technologies. As quickly as Lehayne could get a target lock, she fired missiles from her one remaining launcher. They were out in no time, but they had made a damned good accounting for themselves as the enemy fleet had been depleted of a total of thirty-six mother ships. Lehayne changed her tactics just a bit now that they were 'Winchester' missiles. With the Shadow Slicer on full power, she aimed for the central column that made up a Cylon _Basestar_. The Slicer beam tore at the column, separating it. She then took aim with the Breen weapons, draining each half of its power and leaving it a lifeless hulk.

After taking out eight vessels in this fashion, the Cylons figured out the ploy of the small fighter and began targeting it in earnest. Space suddenly lit up in front of them as hundreds of anti-fighter turrets began targeting them. It was inevitable that one would hit. In the instant of time it took for the QSG to phase them back into normal space and their shields to rise, a number of pulses hit them. The damage was apparent fairly quickly. Life support was failing, and the inertial compensators had taken a hit. Now they were feeling fifty percent of the motion of the fighter and suddenly they both knew their time in the universe was limited.

"Damn! Main guns are down. I'm showing a feed fault on the rear cannon."

"That's the least of our problems, Lehayne. Life support is failing. Inertial compensators at fifty percent efficiency. Targeting scanners are down. We gotta get out of this fight and quick."

"Luna is closest. I'll try and keep 'em off us."

"You do that."

With a minimum of fuss, the _Peregrine_ came down on final. To add insult to injury, the landing gear failed to deploy, and so the stricken fighter came to a skid across the runway. Since neither pilot nor gunner were wearing any sort of pressure suit, they had to wait for a unit to come and get them. It was a short wait.

----------------------------------------

_**Independence Station**_

Most of the Alliance fighters were out of the fight now, having been brutally outnumbered at the onset by better than fifteen to one odds. The fight had fallen to the larger capital ships to duke it out. The _Halsey_ and the _Kennedy_ were pouring massive amounts of fire at the enemy, rippling off salvoes of torpedoes in an effort to whittle down the opposition, but they were both running dry of the weapons. _Indy_ had already gone through its own stocks of torpedoes and was now dependent solely on its beam weapons to hold the tide against the endless waves of enemy fighters that seemed to appear from the enemy vector. Enemy fleet strength wasn't quite where it was only an hour ago. Four hundred _Ha'tak_s had been cut to three-twenty-five, and found hundred _Basestar_s had been halved to two hundred. Still, considering each vessel had brought three hundred fighters to the table, it was a lot of firepower they had at their disposal.

The two Alliance battle groups in system were already at half strength, with one group missing four battlecruisers, and the other lacking all four missile destroyers and both flak frigates. This battle would be decided on how much help arrived to stave off the enemy tide.

"_Independence_ Station. Our forces are ready to assist."

"Thanks, Lord Yu. We could use your fighters to supplement our own forces. The enemy are hurting us and badly."

"We are honor bound by treaty to defend your world. We will do so."

An hour later, there were few vessels on the Alliance side that could still fight. Almost all had run through their stocks of torpedoes, and only a very few had any left. And still, the enemy fleet had more than two hundred _Ha'tak_s, and a little less than one hundred and fifty _Basestar_s left at its disposal.

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_**Antarctica**_

SG-1 had done the impossible. They had gone by ship to Praclarush Taonas and retrieved the Ancient's power module, then returned to Earth and gone to Antarctica to use the systems there to help defend Earth. They had been pursued by a few Kull warriors who had fallen quickly to the weapons in SG-1's possession. O'Neill had then taken a seat on the chair, that was the central control for the defense systems of the Antarctic base. From an opening in the surface behind where O'Neill sat, hundreds of drones rose up into the air, streaking into space, and heading for Anubis' mothership.

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_**Dimensional Space**_

_It was time._

"Tok'Ra. I believe it is time."

"I believe so, John. Q?"

"I must concur. The Continuum has already chosen a nice little prison for Anubis and for Iblis. They will never escape from it."

"Then it is up to me, for the moment."

If there had been any mortal witnesses in this little pocket of dimensional space, they would have seen three men flex their muscles and then ripple out of existence. But there weren't any witnesses.

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_**Anubis' Command Ship**_

"Jaffa, Kree! Send in the next wave of fighters!"

Anubis sat on his throne, watching the progress of the battle. He had come here with a vastly superior force, and even then he had been hard pressed to keep his forces in good spirits, as there weren't enough of the enemy for everyone to kill and be happy. But they were winning, and such was never in doubt, and the insolent Tau'ri would fall before him, and when they fell, their Alliance would fall as well. Then nothing would prevent him from taking his rightful place as Lord and Master of the Universe. It was his destiny. It was his right.

"Anubis!"

"Who calls my name?"

"I am Tok'Ra. It is time for you to answer for your sins."

"You have no dominion over me!"

"Wrong! The others may choose not to interfere, but it is not a rule. I choose to interfere."

"I will stand by you, Brother. This petty creature that calls itself an Ancient will not move you from this place!"

"In that respect, Iblis, you too are wrong. The Others have come for you. The Ship of Lights waits for you."

"No! No one has dominion over me!"

"For your crimes, you Anubis, and you Iblis, have been sentenced to eternal damnation. The Q Continuum will serve as your keepers for the rest of eternity. We banish you, to live out eternity, in a pair of stars that even now struggle to survive against the might of the black hole that is at the center of the galaxy. To be torn apart, molecule by molecule, for all eternity. Such is the judgment of the Continuum."

Q snapped his fingers and the two semi ascended creatures in question, Anubis and Iblis, disappeared from sight. They reappeared seconds later, each powerless and trapped in a star at the center of the Milky Way galaxy. Stars that were being pulled apart by the intense tidal forces of a nearby black hole.

Q now adopted the persona, temporarily, of Iblis, to issue new orders to the Cylon fleets outside. Then he adopted the personage of Anubis for the same task. It happened quickly outside. So quickly that the Alliance didn't notice at first, that their enemies had stopped firing, had stopped moving. The Cylon _Basestar_s fell silent, followed shortly by the _Ha'tak_s. The Jaffa on those ships surrendered to the Alliance. The Cylons could not. They were dead. Inert. Lifeless. Hunks of junk.

On _Independence_ _Station_, on Luna, on Mars, on Earth, and on every still functioning ship, the news of surrender was met with something akin to shock. Anubis had been winning. Why would he surrender? Why would the Cylons stop fighting?

----------------------------------------

_**Independence Station**_

From Earth, hundreds of small balls of energy flew up from the South Polar Region, straight into space, and straight at the remaining Goa'uld vessels. They flew unerringly at their targets, destroying each one easily until only the dead Cylon _Basestar_s remained.

The cloud coalesced in the command center. Golden and shiny and transparent. Some knew who it was, and some didn't, but all felt nothing but calm emanating from the cloud.

"Dad?"

"My son. Methos. Anubis and Iblis will trouble you no more. They have been permanently dealt with by the Ancients."

"So now what happens?"

"Now, you build up your Alliance and you prepare for the challenges to come. This is your time, my son. Use it well."

"Dad?"

"Methos?"

"Are you leaving?"

"I promised you once before that I will always be by your side, my Son. I will always be there to watch over you. I must go now, to rest. This fight against Anubis and Iblis has drained much of me. I will return. When the time is right. Until then, you and your compatriots will have much to do."

----------------------------------------

_**Peace**_

----------------------------------------

_**Aftermath**_

It was over. The war against Anubis was over, but the death toll had been great. _Prometheus_, _Seattle_, _Raleigh_, and _Houston_. _Angel_ _Shark_, _Horn_ _Shark_, _Reef_ _Shark_, and _Tiger_ _Shark_. _Pavises_ and _Testudo_. _Midway_ and _Kursk_. _Zeus_, _Hera_, and _Athena_. _Forrestal_ and _Ranger_. Space borne vessels that would never exist again. _Nimitz_ and her strike group. _Illustrious_ and her strike group. Hundreds of terrestrial fighters downed. Hundreds of escape pods adrift in space. A few dozen cities on Earth in flame. A heavy toll indeed.

But from this attack came a renewed sense of vigor. Ships would be rebuilt, cities extinguished and repopulated. Life would move on. The United Nations was the first to decide a particular issue, but many countries soon followed their lead. To prevent such an event from ever occurring again, colonies would be seeded among the stars. And for all those worlds where the Goa'uld had taken the peoples of Earth, a new agency was established to contact them and to help them where necessary. To bring about a new age of peace and exploration. A new Golden Age of mankind.

The Support Groups had done wonders for Aaru, Duat, and Tartarus, and all three worlds were now protectorates of the Alliance. A few Goa'uld had tested the Alliance's resolve for warfare and had come away much wiser from the battle. Q had sent the Federation forces home along with those from the Interstellar Alliance, to their respective universes, but Sheridan and Delenn had returned almost immediately for treaty negotiations. Both Alliances were of a kind, as it were, though in different universes. One could no longer come to the aid of the other, at least militarily, but intellectual trade could still be accomplished via the mirror. The strike teams under General Sheridan had performed well enough so that they were now a permanent part of the Alliance military, with new units being actively recruited.

With so much metal now in the hands of the Alliance shipyards, from all the lifeless hulks of Cylon ships, a new construction spree went on unabated for several months. The immediate effect was the replacement of all fighters lost in the attack on Earth, along with new ships for the fleet. The secondary effect was a severe glut on the world markets as billions of tons of steel and aluminum and other metals suddenly entered the market. Those companies that weren't prepared for the deluge, failed. Those that were, those that had listened to their governments before the war, they succeeded.

General George Hammond of the SGC was promoted, again, and urged to take on the post of Homeworld Security, by President Ryan. Colonel Jack O'Neill was promoted to Brigadier General and given command of the SGC. His team second, Major Samantha Carter, was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and given command of SG-1, which once again became a four man unit with Teal'c, Captain Pierson, and Dr. Jackson.

An expedition was put together to the Ancient city of Atlantis, now discovered to be in the Pegasus Galaxy. The President, with General Hammond's blessing, appointed Dr. Elizabeth Weir to head the expedition. A small military contingent would be sent along, just in case. It would be followed up by a space going mission, that would arrive in Pegasus, at the co-ordinates of Atlantis, within six months. It would be based around one of three _Explorer_-class vessels that would seed the route with ship type jump gates for further exploration. A second _Explorer_-class vessel, with an escort of two Battlestars and one full battle group, would head for the area of space where the Colonial Twelve Worlds were located, to reclaim them now that the Cylon threat had ended.

It was about this time that Sheridan and Lehayne found themselves in England, at a very nice manor home, that the Watcher's Council had taken as their own many centuries ago. Sheridan was there to meet her 'family'.

"Relax, Boss, they'll love ya."

"Uh huh. I've heard that one before. Usually right before the groom gets put on a spit and roasted."

"Not gonna happen. Not on my watch. Didn't I say I'd watch your back?"

"Hell, I thought you said 'wash' my back!"

"That too. Maybe later."

It turned out that they were expected. But where the people of the manor home had expected the rough and tumble Faith, Vampire Slayer, what they got was Lieutenant Faith Lehayne, well decorated member of Sheridan's Rangers. It was the uniform that they didn't expect. The swagger, the strut, all that was the same, but now it came from a different reason. Faith Lehayne was a tried and true member of Sheridan's Rangers, battle tested on three different worlds and in space. Between the two of them, in a small _Peregrine_ fighter during the battle for Earth, they had killed thirty six enemy vessels and dozens of enemy fighters, before they had taken too much battle damage to continue and had been forced into an emergency landing on Luna. They had been pulled from the wreckage of their fighter and taken to the infirmary for a check-up. Sheridan's Immortal healing ability, and Lehayne's Slayer healing factor had already taken care of the worst of the damage. By the time a medical orderly came in a few hours later with the news of the victory, both were very much naked and in the midst of some very loud sex.

"Faith. Never thought I would see the day, you in uniform and all."

"Giles. People change. If it hadn't been for the Alliance, I'd still be rotting away in a prison cell. They gave me a second chance."

"Your eyes are different. The person I knew then, when you went to prison, is not the same person standing before me now."

"War does that to a person, or so I'm told."

"War? I see the pretty baubles on your chest. What are they for?"

"Bravery. Courage. Duty. Saving the life of one's commanding officer."

"I see. And this gentleman with you, he is not military police then?"

"I beg your pardon! An MP I ain't. General Jake Sheridan, at your service."

"A General too. My, my, Faith. You have come up in the world. Well, I expect you'll be wanting to see Buffy. She is out in the back with the new trainees."

"I'll find her."

----------------------------------------

"So, ah, Giles was it?"

"Doctor Rupert Giles. General Sheridan, yes?"

"Yes. Ya know, you were being kinda hard on her. She's not the same person she was when she joined the Alliance."

"Yes, 'war does that to a person'. Tell me, General Sheridan, about the war?"

"Warfare is not for the faint of heart. I could tell you stories, sir, and you could live vicariously through them, but it wouldn't be the same. But Faith tells me you are what is termed, a 'watcher'. Is this correct?"

"What do you know of this?"

"Only what she told me of the Slayer and the fight against evil. I'm not here to judge you, sir, or your organization. What I want to know is, what do you know of the Immortals and their Watchers?"

"We have been aware of Immortals for less than a century. One of our members was also a member of their organization. A Watcher, that is."

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_**Behind the house**_

"B!"

"Faith. Wow. You in a uniform. I'd never have guessed you'd clean up so good."

"Yeah, well, getting a second chance in life does wonders."

"So, have you met any of those Immortals on Luna?"

"Yep. I have one as a commanding officer, and one as a lover."

"A lover. Really?"

"Really."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Are Immortals better than mortal men?"

"In my opinion? Hell yeah! But I'm a little biased at the moment."

"So, did you bring him down to meet us?"

"Yeah. We're getting kinda close and the subject of marriage has come up once or twice."

"Did you just say the 'M' word?"

"Strange isn't it? But we're pretty serious, and he really rocks my world. Anyways, I thought I'd come back here for a bit. He and I, we're getting shipped out for awhile. Our unit has been attached to a deep space recon mission. We ship out on the twenty-fifth."

"That's in a week! How long will you be gone?"

"Six months. Maybe twice that. Depends on what we find out in space."

"Well, let's go meet him. I'm curious to know what kinda man could win your heart."

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_**Luna **_

_**Office of the President**_

Things had gone quickly after Anubis had surrendered. All of the worlds in his empire were contacted by the Tok'ra and all were now protectorates under the Alliance. Sure enough, after Anubis had been defeated, the temporary alliance with the Goa'uld Hegemony had fallen apart, and the other system lords had gone back to squabbling over their domains. All but Lord Yu, who had agreed to a more formal treaty with the Alliance and who even now was encouraging his 'captive' populations to begin learning all that was necessary to become productive members of the Alliance. For the moment, Lord Yu's domain became a protectorate under the banner of the Alliance. Strange times were ahead for all. This was but one of them.

So much damage in the battle. So many lives lost. Ships had been rebuilt, but there would never be another _Prometheus_. That ship had been a test bed, a prototype for all the ships that had followed. _Prometheus_ was assured a place in history, as the first interstellar craft of truly human origins. Maybe _Prometheus_-A would live up to its namesake. The incessant buzzing of his pager made him look up from his paperwork. A glance at the small screen told him all he needed to know. Code 7-R.

"I know Doc, I know you're gonna get unstable, but hell, I can't begin to explain what we need, and they helped us once before so maybe they will again."

"Ok, Kawalsky. I know why I'm here, but I just don't know how long I'm gonna have this time. I've been here before. I don't know if the effect is cumulative or not."

"Ya know Doc, this don't look like the SGC to me. Or that Area-51 we went to the last time."

"You are correct, Colonel. This is not the SGC. Doctor Carter and company, I presume. Here, take this. Wear it always while you are here. It will stabilize your presence in this universe. A little toy that we picked up from the Ancients."

"Who are you?"

"That's rather complicated folks. You've been here before, and that was a few years ago. At that time, the SGC helped you to contact the Asgard, and you became a part of the Protected Planets Treaty."

"That's correct. Still doesn't tell me who you are."

"As I said, it's rather complicated. My name is Marco Ramos. I was formerly a Major in the US Air Force. Now I serve as President of the Immortal Council. And you guessed correctly, this isn't the SGC. Would you believe you are on a base on the Moon?"

"Oh boy. I think I need a drink."

"Let's go into my office. You can have your drink while I contact the SGC."

"After you, Mr. President."

----------------------------------------

"This is all rather strange. When last we saw you, our two worlds were on pretty much the same technological level. What changed?"

"I guess we had to change. The Goa'uld were becoming too much of a threat. Ra, Hathor, Heru'ur, Apophis, Anubis."

"Haven't met the last one yet."

"Oh, he's a hell of a Goa'uld, believe me. We just got done defeating him. He came to Earth with an armada. Eight hundred ships."

"Holy cow! And you defeated him?"

"Yep. But I think our major turning point as far as parallel development goes, was the Ancient. Or meeting him, that is."

"An Ancient?"

"Yeah. First the Ancient, then the discovery of Immortals, then the meeting with the Colonials, then the birth of the Alliance. Followed shortly thereafter by some dimensional journeys during which we brought back a whole lot of technology."

"You've been busy."

----------------------------------------

"O'Neill."

"Jack. Marius here. Some friends of yours came through the mirror. Doctor Samantha Carter and Colonel Charles Kawalsky."

"Really. Have they given a reason yet?"

"Nope. I'm going to put this on the screen. You can ask them yourself."

----------------------------------------

"Jack."

"Colonel O'Neill."

"Actually, it's General O'Neill, now Charlie."

"Well, looks like life has been good to you then."

"Ya save the world a few times, and the Brass can be thankful."

"I hope you have better Brass than us."

"Better. We have a President with a clue."

"You mean this guy here?"

"Nah. Marco is President of Luna. I'm talking about Jack Ryan."

"Never heard of him. We have a guy named Kinsey. A real horse's ass."

"Yeah, I know the rat fink. May he rest in pieces."

"He's dead here?"

"Uhm, killed in prison, actually."

"I can't imagine it happening to a better person."

"So, Kawalsky. Tell me why you're back."

"You helped us once before, to contact the Asgard. And they helped us, put us on the Protected Planets Treaty. But that was after Apophis attacked Earth. A lot of cities got bombarded from orbit. The US lost two carrier strike groups. Kinsey became President because the former President, Henry Hayes, and his VP Elizabeth Weir got killed when Apophis attacked. Kinsey was Energy Secretary. Now he's President."

"Nope. We got rid of him here. And we probably would have had Hayes as President had not Roger Durling named a VP just before his death. Hayes was the front runner before the attack."

"Apophis attacked here also?"

"He did, but that's not the attack I meant. While we were fighting in deep space, war broke out on Earth. Japan attacked the US. Took our holdings in the Pacific, and threatened to launch a nuclear strike against us. Needless to say, Japan lost the war. But an airline pilot, crazed by the loss of his brother and his son during the war, took his 747, and crashed it into the Capitol building during a joint session. Ironically, it was the session where Jack Ryan was to have been sworn in as VP."

"So, Hayes was killed here?"

"He was at the joint session. A VIP. He died with the rest. But we've been lucky I guess. Jack Ryan is a man who knows what's good for the country, what's good for the people."

"Sounds a hell of a lot better than Kinsey."

"Trust me on this. He is much better than Kinsey. So, back to why you're here?"

"Well, like I said, you helped us out before. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for your help. We lost a lot of good people, but we've managed to find others. We figured out the Quantum Mirror and how to control it. We went to one reality where Earth had been bombarded from orbit. There were three survivors in the base, waiting to die. Since they were dead in our reality, we offered them sanctuary. We now have a Dr. Jackson, who's probably just as much a geek as the one you have here. And we have a Jack O'Neill again. In the reality where we found Jack and Daniel, we found a Jaffa. A First Prime. Calls himself Bra'tac."

"You've been busy. Glad to see that some good has come from the mirror."

"It's one of the ways in which we explore. Trying to learn what other realities did, and how different some of them are from ours. This reality here is only a few degrees off on the controller from ours. It is the closest in terms of events, or at least it was."

_Brip-beep._

"Yes?"

"Sir, sorry to disturb you, but you asked to be notified when the _Vespucci_ came out of space dock."

"I did. Thanks."

"Space dock?"

"Well, like I told you two, you are on Luna. Home of the Immortal Nation, and present home of Alliance headquarters. We have a major ship building facility here; the low gravity, you see. I asked to be notified when the first _Explorer_-class ship came out of space dock. Jack, I think you're gonna like this one.

"Introducing the _Amerigo_ _Vespucci_, the first _Explorer_-class vessel. She's sixty-one hundred meters in length, and will be home to about three hundred and fifty crew, along with two squadrons of _Thunderbolt_ fighters, and a dozen or so _Danube_-I scout ships. As soon as she has taken on supplies, she'll be paired with elements from Support Group Bravo, and Battle Group Five for the journey to Pegasus. Along the way, she'll periodically drop out of hyperspace to setup Jump Gates so we can begin to explore in earnest."

"She's big, Marius."

"Well, since she's also designed to set up Jump gates, she has to carry the darn things. In sections, mind you. But since Atlantis has been identified as an oceanic world, the _Vespucci_ will also be carrying some water borne assets for the mission, along with an assortment of defense hardware."

"Ya know Doc, I think coming back here was a good thing. Obviously, they've advanced a whole heck of a lot since we were last here."

"I think you're right, Colonel. So, ah, General O'Neill? Whom do we speak to about technology trade?"

"You could start with Marius there. If ya need to, I'll give you an intro to President Ryan, but Marius can give you the intros to the Colonial government just as easily as I can."

"Colonial Government?"

"Another long story. It makes for interesting lunch conversation. Jack? I'll get back to you."

"Ya. I got way too much paperwork to do. And I gotta keep Daniel on Earth. He desperately wants to go to Atlantis."

"Oh yeah, we gotta keep him here. I'll do what I can on my end. Later, Jack."

----------------------------------------

"So, tell me of your world? What's it like in the aftermath of the attacks?"

"Kinsey laid full blame on that attack by Apophis on the SGA. Then he took the program public. We responded by forming a corporation, privately held of course, and we explore and obtain patents on what we find. The company is very rich at the moment, and we're using some of our products to help rebuild all that's been lost. The Goa'uld destroyed several dozen cities from orbit. Some of those cities had nuclear power plants nearby and those were destroyed. There's a fair amount of radioactive particulate matter in the atmosphere of our world."

"I think we can help with that. So, you're here to negotiate?"

"Yes. The mandate of our company is to explore the universe, through the mirror and through the Gate, trading for those items we think will be of use in our world."

"But no space fairing tech, yet?"

"Oddly enough, we haven't come across any cultures that have made it into space. We've found a few that are close to us technologically, but they are all behind us. We have Shuttles, and we have some stolen Goa'uld cargo ships, but that's it."

"I see. Give me an example of something you've found through your travels?"

"We went to one world through the mirror. Everything had been destroyed. We're guessing, though we were unable to determine with any certainty, that this particular world was several decades ahead of us chronologically speaking. Perhaps as much as a century. But the entire planet was silent. No radio transmissions. Nothing. The mirror put us in a secure underground facility, and we sent a probe to the surface. It ranged out close to a thousand kilometers, but it saw no movement. Detailed examinations of the probe's recordings showed no heat, no life, not a damn thing."

"But obviously you found something there?"

"Oh yeah. The facility we were in was their equivalent of the SGA. We found a non-functional gate. We sent a research team to that world, through the mirror. It took them less than a week to find the archives in that facility. What we brought back, well, it changed the way we do things at the SGA. We haven't even patented this product. We decided to keep it all to ourselves for the moment. This is what it is."

"Looks like a six-volt lantern battery."

"It does, doesn't it? Actually, it's a small fusion-powered battery. There's enough juice in there to run the Gate for a week."

"A week? But it's no bigger than a lantern battery!"

"Did I mention that the civilization we found was decades ahead of us?"

"Yeah, I think you did say that. Ok, it's official, I'm interested. What are you looking for?"

"What kind of ships do you have?"

"Small, medium, large, and friggin' huge."

"You're a funny man."

"Seriously though, pretty much anything you might want from a light scout to a dreadnought. Included in there are the fighters and shuttle craft."

"So, recommend something?"

"What are you manufacturing capabilities?"

"Well, we don't have any space docks."

"So, something small that can initially be built on Earth?"

"At least until we can build facilities in orbit, but yes."

Marius pressed a few buttons on his desktop keyboard and a holographic projector sprang to life. As he selected ships, small representations of them appeared in the projector, allowing the visitors to view the vessel from all angles.

"Hmm. Maybe an _Olympus_-class corvette? Standard armament includes laser pulse cannons, particle beams, heavy rail guns, and missile launchers. Four each on the lasers and launchers, two each on the particle beams and rail guns. Just over four hundred meters in length.

"Or maybe a _Whitestar_-class frigate? Two pulsed neutron cannons, four pulsed fusion cannons, and one heavy quantum disruptor, along with room for four fighters at just under five hundred meters.

"Of course, if you want something even smaller, we also have the _Danube_-class of heavy scouts at just under thirty meters, with room for up to twelve commandoes including flight team of one or two. Twin pulse phase cannons, anti-fighter phase cannon strips, and a torpedo launcher."

""I think those will cover our needs fairly well. Ideally, we'd like a carrier vessel, so we could carry a lot of fighters into battle against the Goa'uld, but I guess we can't have everything."

"Well, we do have a vessel we call the _Jeep_-class, which holds one squadron of fighters. For this vessel, we recommend using the _Aurora_ class _Starfury_ as it fits the design the best. The access hatch for the fighter mates up to one of eighteen access hatches on the vessel. From a front view, the vessel could be seen as triangular, with access hatches and fighters docked at forty-five, one-thirty-five, and two-seventy. There are a number of rail gun flak turrets, and the vessel has extra storage capacity at the rear for missile reloads, and Maintenance drones. The living conditions aboard the vessel are rather spare however."

"How big of a vessel is it? Does it have any offensive weapons, or purely defensive?"

"It measures in at just shy of three hundred meters in length. The weapons aboard are primarily defensive in nature, but it can be fitted with two laser cannons, which are fairly decent against non-shielded and lightly armored vessels, but next to worthless against anything with a shield. If the shielded vessel never fires back, I suppose you could eventually wear down the shields, but going into battle with only a couple of light laser cannons is not my idea of a good time. We could supplement that and add in a single torpedo launcher under the nose area, but then you have to make the vessel a bit longer to compensate."

"It's one thing for you to show us how to build the vessels, and quite another to understand the science behind those vessels. I could stay here for years and still not know what I need to know."

"Ok. How about this? How about we send a full technical team to your side, with all the specs and a few resources to get you started?"

"How many people are we talking about here?"

"Call it eighteen to twenty, and that includes a small defense team for the tech team. All my team would need would be an enclosed hangar to build the first vessel in, the materials to build said vessel, and plenty of security outside the hangar. The last thing you'd want is another nation finding out you're building an armed space-going vessel."

"Ok, so your team shows us how to build the craft. Then what?"

"Then we do for you, what we did. We take that first vessel and make a quick trip into the system. Build a small space dock facility in the asteroid field. Use the raw materiel in the field to build more ships. The problem is getting the first one built. Thereafter, it's a cakewalk for your world."

"Sounds like we have a deal."

"Excellent! You will join me for dinner of course, and we'll make the final arrangements then."

"Good."

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_**Epilogue**_

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Marco Ramos**_

_Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger in my life, in walks the alternate Carter and alternate Kawalsky. It seems they use their mirror almost as much as they use their Stargate, which is a whole order of magnitude more than we do. But I guess they'd have to, considering Apophis actually attacked their Earth and laid ruin to a good chunk of it. _

_The technical team departed yesterday. Part of the exchange program we worked out with that reality. They're all wearing the dimensional stabilizers, just in case. My instructions to the team were to set up as a privately financed corporation on their Earth, in much the same way that their SGC is run. I find it amazing that a program like the Stargate could be run as a for-profit corporation, but it seems to work for them. Xerxes volunteered to lead the defense team that went there. The team will stay there for one standard year, then return. By then, they should have the industrial base to manufacture pretty much any space craft. _

_The _Explorer_ vessel _Vespucci_ left yesterday, headed for Pegasus and Atlantis with a full battle and support group arrayed around it. There's been no word from Atlantis, but it might be that they don't have the energy reserves to contact us, rather than something more nefarious. At least I hope so._

_A second _Explorer_, the _Coronado_, will be teamed up with a Colonial taskforce to return to the Colonial worlds, and try to salvage what's left. Their first mission, however, is the return trip and establishment of a military outpost in Colonial space to serve as a staging point for exploration into the Cylon controlled areas. _

_A third vessel, the _Cordoba_, will set out for deep space, to map the systems in close proximity to ours, and to search for habitable planets. _

_All in all, I believe this is a Hell of a time to be alive."_

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Jake Sheridan**_

_Got my orders today. I'm shipping out on the newest vessel to join the fleet. They're calling it the _Cordoba_. They're sending eight full Ranger teams on her. Each team will be working with a dedicated _Saber_-class ship. _

_I had a lot of fun visiting England and Faith's 'family' there. I can't believe it's been sixty-odd years since I'd been in England. Took a side trip to Scotland while I was there to introduce Faith to Connor. He seemed to like her and approve of her. She got her Captain's bars, and has taken over command of a Ranger unit. I have overall command of the Ranger force, and she has command of one of the teams. At least we don't have those Draconian relationship rules like the US military. I'm thinking about asking her to marry me. Maybe when we get back from the mission. I think it's an awesome time to be alive."_

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Dana Scully**_

_I'm glad I was able to talk Mom into moving up here. It's a lot easier visiting with her now. She has a nice little apartment on the opposite side of the circle from me, but it's a pretty fair sized one at that. A lot bigger than what Mulder and I each had on Earth. The Asgard finally came through in their promise to Mulder. It seems that the rogue Asgard elements used the humans they abducted for experimentation and cloning, trying to create a Human-Asgard hybrid. Apparently, the Asgard were once a lot more like us Humans, centuries ago. Their idea might have been noble, trying to reverse the damage done by generations of cloning, but they went about it the wrong way. In a lot of ways, they were no better than the Goa'uld. _

_Their experiments failed though. The few living Samantha clones that were on that colony world all had the mental capabilities of children, yet they were physically fully grown women. I find it a sad case. Mulder is disappointed, but at least he has closure now."_

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Hector**_

"_I thought I had missed the Gathering, when it turns out instead, that my fellow Immortals had formed a new nation. For the moment, my classes on modern military tactics are proceeding apace. I've also had a Watcher assigned to me who is busily interviewing me and recording my history. Apparently, they were unaware of my existence. I have a few more months of learning to do, but I've already been assured of a command level position with the Alliance. It seems the Alliance wants to utilize the talents of we Immortals. Something about having the benefit of long life and experience. These are interesting times B. Just dropping a quick note to let you know I'm shipping out tomorrow. Deep space recon mission. Got a promotion to Captain, and command of a Ranger unit. He hasn't asked me yet, but I have a feeling he will soon. But not to worry, I wouldn't dream of getting married without you as my maid of honor. I'll see you when I get back. F._

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Xerxes**_

_It is indeed a wonderful time to be alive! Not only have I know seen space firsthand, but I'm actually writing this while in a parallel dimension! The ground work has been done. Tomorrow marks the first operational day of Xerxes Industries. The technical staff tell me the native scientists are taking the new information in like a sponge. I hope everything goes well. On a different note, time seems to move a little quicker here. I'm not sure of the reason. Not even the scientists on my staff can tell me the reason. But suffice to say, that every second that passes at home, five seconds pass here. Must be a quirk of this quantum reality. For the moment, I'm glad I decided to get a business degree the last time I went to a university. I'm sure it will come in handy here._

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Riley Hale**_

_I still can't believe I'm living on the Moon! But the Immortals and the Alliance are being really good me and my wife. I have been given command of a bomber squadron assigned to the _Cordoba_. Terry will be joining me as part of the science staff on the ship. We ship out tomorrow, but I think it will be a mostly uneventful mission. The war is over, and the Goa'uld have been defeated. A lot of good people died, but I think for the most part, Earth learned one Hell of a valuable lesson. _

_For the longest time, we squabbled amongst ourselves, never fully realizing the implications of the bigger universal picture. Now that we've had that image thrown in our faces, I think Earth will learn from it. I certainly have._

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Lyta Alexander**_

_President Ramos is as good as his word. The telepaths that have managed to come to this place have been welcomed with open arms. A great many of us have opted to remain on Luna, to work with them as equals. As long as Byron is here on Luna, I will remain as well. I, for one, believe that there are a lot of pilots out there who owe their lives to his teachings. A few of us have even gone to work for Alliance Intelligence! On my Earth, Psi Corps is going mad, trying to figure out where we've gone to. I think it's a fitting end."_

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Cmdr. Annika Hansen**_

_Admiral Janeway informed me recently that she had traveled to the universe where Marco Ramos and the Halsey were from. That she and Picard and several others took part in a battle to defend Earth from an all-out attack by the creature called Anubis. And she said that they were successful. I'm glad that they were. There are a lot of former Drones who are very interested in going there. I think that I would like to see this place for myself. Janeway and Picard call them primitives, but I think, that they are far more advanced psychologically than the humans of the Federation. Perhaps a little conflict is a good thing for a species. Certainly the Federation is seemingly stagnating. I think that I will go there, and soon._

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_**Private Diary Entry**_

_**Carn Mollari**_

_**Colonial Governor**_

_These Humans of this place, they are a most unique species. We treated the Humans of the Earth Alliance as little better than Centauri children, but these here of this Alliance, they are different. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were something of a cross between the Centauri and the Minbari. They are at a stage of joining the universe at large, and they have a noble quality about them. They know when to ask for help. I think that, though I will miss my Uncle Londo, that I am much better off here. Our colony is established, and it seems to be flourishing. Already our birth to death ratio is well above ten to one. In a few decades, we will begin exporting our male citizens as well trained star ship personnel. I see great things ahead for our colony. I think that my Uncle would approve._

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Alliance Council Chambers 

"Narim. Good to see you again! All is well on Tollana?"

"All is well, Marius. I must ask you something. Before you left on the _Halsey_, you claimed you were hok'tar. That you had the power to change the universe. Do you still believe this to be true?"

"Well, I don't know about changing the universe. But as for the powers granted to me by Tok'Ra, hell, I don't want those powers. Too much power can create a monster. I'm not mature enough to handle all of that responsibly."

"That, is the correct answer. You have done well, Marius."


End file.
